


Kink

by bonesmctightass, dicklomatticimmunity



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alien Biology, Alien Rituals, Anal Fingering, Anal Training, Biting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Fisting, Group Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Knotting, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sadistic!Bones, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation, Spanking, Spit Kink, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voice Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8657494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicklomatticimmunity/pseuds/dicklomatticimmunity
Summary: The Enterprise crew gets off on some pretty strange things.A collection of kinks with various pairings.COMPLETE. REQUESTS CLOSED.





	1. Spanking

**T** he silence of the room was deafening to Jim's ears. _Do not move until I return_. That was his explicit instruction and nothing more. Of course, it was already implied that he was not to touch himself. Jim wouldn't dare, no matter how much his cock ached and leaked onto the carpet beneath him. His hands rested dutifully on his knees while his eyes were fixed on the door. Or at least, the general direction of where he thought the door was. His vision was obscured with a length of black fabric tied tight around his head. To build the anticipation of what was to come, he assumed. And anticipate he did. He had no idea what he was about to endure at the hands of an angry Spock.

 

The door swooshed open and Jim stiffened, furrowing his brows pleadingly. Surely Spock had planned to stay this time. When beta shift had ended, Spock ordered Jim to their quarters and made him strip. Once he shucked his uniform, Jim sat at Spock's feet like a dog and waited for the inevitable. Instead, Spock robbed him of his sight and gagged him. Then Jim was left alone. For how long, he couldn't be sure. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. It didn't matter. Now that Spock had returned, all Jim wanted to do was deliver a formal apology. But he couldn't, because his mouth was stuffed with Spock's regulation briefs. The sound of soft footsteps drew closer.

 

“I am pleased to see that you can follow orders as well as you deliver them,” Spock breathed directly into his ear, hot and tickling his oversensitive skin. Thin fingers sifted affectionately through Jim's hair. He nuzzled the open palm and preened, wanting to prove his remorse. Without warning the grip on his hair tightened to a painful degree and pulled. Jim whined and followed it, rearing up on his knees to relieve the pressure. His traitorous cock twitched with burning arousal.

 

“You have grown far too comfortable flirting with death, Captain. Your recklessness knows no bounds.” Jim wanted to beg for forgiveness, explain that this was not his fault, that everything was _fine_ until something he said was poorly translated, that he didn't mean to offend the queen of the planet he had desperately tried to forge an alliance with. He tried to speak but his words were muffled by the fabric in his mouth.

 

Spock abruptly released his hold and Jim fell to the floor. “You do not anticipate the danger of compromising situations. I am beginning to think you cannot be trusted to leave the ship without me.” His calm voice held an underlying note of dangerous distemper. It was such a fucking _turn on_.

 

Jim tried to reach out for Spock but his wandering hands were evaded. Yes, he hadn't thought about the possibility of a translator malfunction. He hadn't scoped out an escape route just in case the royal guard had turned on him. The stab wound he sustained, while easily repaired, narrowly missed his heart.

 

He really should be punished. Hopefully with a sizeable Vulcan cock pounding his ass so hard that he wouldn't be able to head away missions, much less sit properly. What he wouldn't give to earn Spock's forgiveness by choking himself on that nice piece of man meat.

 

The sound of a chair being dragged across the room caught Jim's ears, startling him out of his thoughts. He stilled and waited for further instruction with learned obedience.

 

“Come to me, Jim.”

 

Jim dropped to his hands and followed the voice with a sultry crawl, bowing his back and presenting his ass in the most enticing manner he could manage. The sound of Spock's breath catching in his throat made Jim grin smugly. His cheek collided with Spock's knee and he worked his way in between those long legs. With the gag in his mouth Jim wasn't able to lick at the bulge cruelly hidden in form fitting slacks, so he nuzzled into it instead hoping to appease its owner.

 

The position could only be enjoyed for a moment. Jim yelped in surprise as he was grabbed by the arm, roughly hauled up and laid out across Spock's lap.

 

“Do not think yourself safe. You will be punished in a manner befitting of your indiscretion.”

 

Jim would have voiced his protests but the smooth hand gliding up and down his naked back was quite distracting. He melted into the touch, sagging against his captor's thighs. When the first strike rained down on his backside, Jim threw out a silent thanks to the underwear in his mouth. If it weren't there he surely would've screamed. The sting in his cheeks was more startling than painful. Surely he wasn't about to get spanked into submission? Dear Surak, he hoped so. Spock exhaled deeply and Jim squirmed.

 

There was no particular rhythm to the strikes. Spock would hit him on one side, then the other, and sometimes both at once. Jim was _painfully_ hard. It felt so fucking good. Spock had never hit him before, sexually or otherwise. He handled Jim like he was a fucking ragdoll. He'd never been so hard in his _life_. A gentle hand soothed over the reddening skin while the other tugged the briefs from Jim's mouth. If Spock wanted to hear him, Jim wouldn't disappoint.

 

For several moments nothing happened. Spock simply stroked along Jim's thighs and the curve in his back until Jim relaxed in spite of himself. Then the next smack came and Jim cried out and writhed against the hand pressing in between his shoulder blades. It didn't take long for Spock to grow hard. The prominent bulge was rubbing against Jim's stomach, pressing into him with need at every strike. Spock was enjoying this, Jim realized, just as much as he was. It was like gasoline on an already rolling fire.

 

The next set of blows had Jim moaning like an Orion whore. "Yes, yes, harder. Hit me harder! Oh please, Spock, don't stop." Spurred on by the overwhelming encouragement, Spock allowed his control to slip just slightly. Every few smacks Jim would cry out things like "yes!" and "give it to me!" and made sure to tell Spock how much he loved it rough.

 

Spock rubbed a hand possessively over Jim's ass, squeezing and kneading the abused flesh with unrelenting roughness once it had grown red and hot. Deft fingers delved in between the crevice to stroke idly at Jim's twitching hole, never allowing him the pleasure of a moments rest. “Have you learned your lesson, Captain?”

 

Jim shook his head, breathing raggedly.

 

Spock smirked.

 

The next swat landed on Jim's inner thigh, then the other. Jim attempted to spread his legs further but Spock forced him back into place. If he knew misbehaving was going to get him into this, he would have acted out a lot sooner. Jim whined, desperate for more.

 

“Please, Spock. I've been such a naughty captain. I really need to be spanked. Put me in my place. Spank me good and hard so I'll learn.” Even when he was utterly wrecked, Jim's voice sounded like liquid sex. Spock fought to suppress a shudder. He raised his hand and brought it down hard across both cheeks. The growing ache in his palm nearly sent him over the edge.

 

When Spock was done, Jim's ass was raw and glowing. But his punishment was far from over.

 

“Open your mouth.”

 

Jim opened wide, ready to blindly accept whatever Spock had to offer him. He was soon stuffed full of thin fingers and ordered to suck. Jim did so greedily, running his tongue over every digit like it was a cock. Above him he could hear Spock sighing quietly while he pressed his hips into Jim's stomach.

 

The fingers were carefully removed, Spock evidently satisfied with his work. Jim keened in anticipation of the slicked hand relocating to his aching hole just begging to be filled. Instead he found himself on the floor between Spock's spread legs. The sound of a zipper and a rustling of fabric reached Jim's ears and he wished he could see that glorious cock. Blindfold be damned. Jim was grabbed by the hair again and dragged forward.

 

“You will suck my cock until I reach orgasm and swallow everything I have to give you. You will not come until you are told to do so. Is that clear?”

 

Jim almost came all over the floor right then. He moaned and nodded his understanding, pressing his cheek eagerly into the shaft jutting out to meet him. _Fuck,_ Spock must really be turned on to speak so filthily without inhibition. Yeah, he was definitely going to come if Spock kept going like this. He opened wide and filled his throat full of that hot Vulcan cock until his nose nestled into the thatch of course hair at the base of Spock's stomach.

 

Planting his hands firmly on the floor, Jim dragged his mouth over the pulsing flesh until he was kissing the flared head. He slid his tongue into the slit to taste the heady liquid pleasure gathering there before diving back down again. He hollowed his cheeks with the force of his sucking as he lapped at the thick shaft. Jim startled as Spock worked two of his fingers into his mouth alongside his shaft, lips stretched to capacity. This was too much to bear. He was definitely going to come.

 

Jim was drooling the excess of saliva pooling in his mouth as he tried to accommodate the unreasonable girth of Spock's cock and fingers. He was so focused on his task that he hasn't noticed Spock leaning over his back. Jim moaned loudly as the other hand came down on his ass so hard his whole body was jerked forward. A split second later his throat was being filled with Spock's essence, almost choking as he tried to swallow it down. Once he was sure there was nothing left, Jim sat back and struggled to fill his lungs. He was so _desperate_. But Spock was a benevolent lover.

 

“Turn around and present yourself to me.”

 

The command wasn't even completed before Jim was hastily moving to obey it. He propped his ass up on his knees and pressed his cheek and shoulders into the carpet. He was panting and shaking with the effort it took to stay still. This time he was expecting the smack as it reigned down on his greedy ass. One after the other, each rougher than the last. Tears were prickling the corners of his eyes. He wasn't going to last much longer.

 

“You may come.”

 

Sobbing with relief, Jim rode the next blow straight to a hefty release. His untouched cock emptied right into the carpet. Jim sagged into it, twitching with the force of his own orgasm. Behind him he could feel Spock sink down to the floor. Kisses were being peppered over his shoulders and the blindfold was finally removed.

 

“You did very well, Jim. Though I doubt any sort of punishment will be enough to encourage you to err on the side of caution.” Spock murmured the words into his skin, stroking his hands along his back and over his sides lovingly.

 

Jim chuckled. “No. In fact I'm going to be twice as reckless if this is the kind of treatment I'll have to look forward to.”

 

Spock smiled wryly and settled on the floor beside his exhausted captain.

  
“I had suspected as much.”


	2. Hand and Finger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy gives Spock an orgasm for science.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to TAFKAB. ILY BB.

“Wait, wait,  _ wait _ . Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

 

McCoy didn't know how the hell they got onto this topic in the first place. What had started out as a routine check-up had somehow snowballed into a heated discourse on the sensitivity of Vulcan hands. He swallowed thickly, willing himself not to sweat while Spock sat atop the bed and looked him over with a curious stare. Those hands. Those goddamn hands were resting with a fabricated innocence in Spock's lap. 

 

“You should elaborate on what it is you believe me to be insinuating, Doctor.” The glint in Spock's eyes was way too mischievous for McCoy's liking. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the monitor above them, acutely aware of the way Spock's gaze followed him. 

 

“What I think you're saying,” McCoy began cautiously, “is that you could reach orgasm just from having your hands stimulated.” 

 

They were staring hard at each other now, intense and challenging. Spock inclined his head, appearing thoughtful and undaunted under McCoy's incredulous scrutiny. Neither man dared to move.

 

“Given the nature and evolutionary adaptations of Vulcan hands, I would speculate that their stimulation would indeed be enough to produce a powerful biological reaction.” 

 

“You would speculate,” McCoy repeated dubiously. “Then you mean to tell me you haven't experienced these powerful biological reactions for yourself.”

 

Spock shifted his hands over in his lap, baring upturned palms to the open air of the medical bay. The simple action drew McCoy in like a moth to a flame. Damn the seed of arousal he let Spock plant in his mind. “On the contrary, Doctor. I have achieved orgasm under various techniques and circumstances.” 

 

McCoy's mind reeled. He didn't know what was more shocking. The mental image of Spock whoring himself out to satisfy his most carnal desires, or the one of Spock laid bare and desperate and  _ wanting _ . He found himself wondering what kind of expression Spock would wear as he came. Would he writhe in pleasure? Would he moan? Maybe he would grunt, or growl, or sigh. Did he like to be on top, or did he prefer the bottom? McCoy realized too late that he had crossed over into dangerous territory and there was no looking back. These questions needed to be answered. Preferably soon.

 

“However,” Spock continued as easily as if he were discussing basic ship functions, “I have not yet investigated how stimulation exclusively to my hands would affect me.” What Spock said next stole McCoy's breath and hardened his cock instantly. 

 

“Perhaps you'd like to put my theory to the test.” 

 

Fuck him six ways to Sunday. He was essentially going to jerk Spock off for science. McCoy was rapidly stumbling upon the conclusion that he'd never wanted anything quite so desperately. He pressed in between Spock's knees and took one of those tantalizing hands in his. The flesh was smooth, unmarred, like a piece of porcelain. McCoy stroked his thumbs over the palm and he felt Spock shudder. Holy  _ hell _ . He was really going to do this. For science.

 

This time he pressed harder, kneading his calloused thumbs into the heel of Spock's hand and working slowly outward. A poorly suppressed gasp resounded in the room. McCoy was much too focused to hear it. Back and forth, back and forth. He massaged every centimeter of Spock's palm with steadily increasing pressure. 

 

“I find the rough texture of your hands quite pleasing. I have already reached tumescence.” 

 

Startled, McCoy's eyes dropped from Spock's hand to the front of his pants. Sure enough, there was a prominent bulge straining against the zipper. Just from having his hand massaged. Maybe Spock could actually come from this. He wanted to watch. McCoy heard himself say, “Let me see it.” 

 

Spock obliged and retrieved his hand to unfasten his slacks and pull his cock from his briefs and sweet mother of Moses if that wasn't the biggest hunk of meat he'd ever seen. McCoy had been on the business end of his fair share of cocks, but this mammoth was downright threatening. It was long and thick, thickest in the middle, tinted green at the flared head and poised straight for McCoy. He wanted to take it in his mouth and swallow it right down to the hilt, then stuff it in his ass and ride it until he broke. 

 

“Doctor, I would appreciate it if you would continue.”

 

McCoy was burning with equal parts embarrassment at openly staring and arousal from fantasizing about all of the ways he wanted to milk Spock’s balls dry. The hand was offered to him again and McCoy took it, resuming his scrutiny of the webbing between each deceptively delicate digit with his own rough fingers. He rubbed along each extremity, knuckle to tip, stroking at the pads before moving back down again. Spock's cock twitched with approval. 

 

“I believe using your mouth would be most conducive to achieving your goal,” Spock suggested helpfully. McCoy shot him a heated glare with half a mind to say he didn't need any help getting Spock off.  

 

“Awfully smug for a guy getting his rocks off from having his hands played with,” McCoy snarked as if he weren't tunnelling his hand around Spock's fingers and wishing they were his cock. Apparently the gesture achieved the desired effect. Spock exhaled slowly and his free hand moved to grip the edge of the bed in a feeble attempt to keep from touching himself.

 

Finally McCoy gripped Spock by the wrist and drew his hand closer. He gave the tip of the index finger an experimental flick with his tongue. A violent shudder wracked Spock's spine and he curled into himself with involuntary force. Spurred on by a burning curiosity and a desire to please, McCoy flattened his tongue against the digit and slowly licked downward until his lips brushed the knuckle. He licked a path over each knob of bone, worked his tongue in between every finger.

 

McCoy chanced a glance at Spock's face and was overcome with a strong sense of self-satisfaction. Dark pupils were blown wide, nearly eclipsing the alluring color of his eyes. He was panting, running his tongue enticingly over his dry lips and staring straight at McCoy's mouth. He was  _ very  _ hard. The tip of his engorged cock drooled sticky fluid onto his slacks.

 

“Do not stop,” Spock pleaded, though McCoy was reasonably sure it was supposed to come out as an order. 

 

He obliged, pulling the pointer and middle fingers deep into his mouth. McCoy swallowed around them, pulling the digits right into his throat. Spock let out an honest-to-God  _ moan _ , low and throaty and every bit like the liquid sex McCoy thought it would be. Encouraged, he dragged his teeth over the flesh on the next upward stroke of his mouth. Spock twitched, nearly succumbing to the overwhelming urge to squeeze his cock. 

 

“Leonard.” 

 

There was a question hidden in the syllables of his name as they fell shakily from Spock's tongue. McCoy stilled as he considered, understanding the request immediately. He nodded his assent, dropping his arms limply at his sides. Spock leaned in and gripped McCoy's jaw with one hand as the other slowly and deliberately slid out of his mouth. They pushed back in with torturous leisure, the tips rubbing sensually against the flat of McCoy's tongue and the tops of his teeth. It felt oddly pleasurable for McCoy, who was struggling with a raging erection of his own at this point in their experiment. 

 

A third finger slipped inside the welcoming cavern, then a fourth. They pistoned in and out of McCoy's mouth with gradual speed. Spock stretched McCoy's lips wide and anchored his jaw open, arresting his ability to swallow. Saliva welled up in his mouth and steadily trickled down along his chin. Then the unthinkable happened. 

 

Spock abruptly withdrew his hand. “I would enjoy the sight of you, Leonard, if you would let me.” McCoy watched with rapt attention as Spock brought his slick fingers to his mouth and licked off a thick bead of saliva before it rolled lazily down the index. They never broke eye contact.

 

“ _Fuck._ Never knew you were so kinky.” He almost came in his pants right then. “Oh God, Spock, that is so hot.”

 

Deft fingers hastily dropped to his pants and McCoy unfastened them with unmatched speed. He wanted to get off  _ right now _ . Just as he was about to palm his heavy erection, Spock's hand shot out and caught his wrist. 

 

“Please allow me. It would bring me much pleasure.” McCoy's cock was hot and pulsing in his hand. Spock wrapped his spit soaked fingers around the thick column of flesh and squeezed deliciously tight. McCoy moaned shamelessly and bucked into the firm grip. “I will continue to stroke you if you would resume sucking on my fingers.” 

 

Anything to keep that pressure on his cock. McCoy opened his mouth and a new set of fingers pushed their way inside. Both hands worked up a satisfying rhythm. In and out, back and forth. McCoy sucked dutifully as Spock jerked him off, panting quietly as he worked. 

 

Suddenly Spock seized and let out a ragged groan, doubling over as his orgasm ripped through him with powerful force. His fingers curled compulsorily as he spilled his seed onto his uniform. The borderline painful grip on McCoy's cock pulled the orgasm right out of him with equal ferocity, adding to the mess on Spock's pants. 

 

They collapsed into each other, reveling in the pleasant convulsions wracking their bodies in the aftermath. The silence that befell them was comfortable. Gratifying, even. And as they mentally prepared themselves to clean up their mess and face the bridge, McCoy had only one thing to say. 

  
“Fascinating.” 


	3. Bukkake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alien rituals can be a blessing and a curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks and credit for the idea go to TAFKAB.

That's it. This is the final straw. After this miserable mission is over, Leonard Horatio McCoy is _definitely_ going to retire.

 

It all started business as usual.

 

The M class planet they beamed down to is aesthetically unremarkable, with most of its structures crafted from crude building materials such as grass, mud, and stone. Except, of course, for the large temple in the center of the village where the high priestess resides. It is sculpted from marble with various golden accents, intricate tapestries and carvings decorating the walls, and an incredible height. It stretches high towards the sky, reaching futily for the deity it honors while it looms over its unworthy creations.

 

The planet’s inhabitants are rather primitive in McCoy's opinion. While the culture and its people are relatively unhelpful to the Federation's cause, the planet contains a wealth of dilithium crystals buried deep in the earth, and it is for this reason that Starfleet has set its sights on establishing diplomatic relations. The natives have thus far been using these dilithium assets as part of healing rituals, holy offerings, jewelry, and other miscellaneous frivolities.

 

At first, McCoy is fascinated by their way of life, frozen in time and sheltered from technology and the knowledge of life outside of their little encampment. One of the maidens is teaching him how to braid a beaded healing relic when Jim calls his name. McCoy bows his head politely and pockets the artifact before joining his captain and first officer before the temple. They are shown inside by two handmaidens. There the high priestess is waiting for them, lounging regally on a throne that McCoy swears could have been made from the sun's very rays. She is breathtakingly beautiful.

 

“Captain Kirk. We finally meet. Welcome to our village, gentlemen. I trust you've taken the time to look around? We have various comforts which my people are eager to share with you.” Her voice is warm and inviting. McCoy glances over at Jim, who is wearing his token handsome smile.

 

“We have indeed. Your tribe is lovely and we've taken great comfort in the offered amenities. We are very grateful that you've accepted us with open arms,” Jim says and lowers his eyes respectfully. He's pouring on the charm so thick McCoy wants to _gag_.

 

“Of course.” The priestess comes down from her perch, moving with an air of elegance. “Now that you've had time to relax, perhaps we should resume our discussion of your terms.”

 

She leads the landing party to a room off to the left of the inner sanctum. The floor is littered with rugs and pillows of various sizes, colors, and textures. Each corner of the space is lit with incense. It smells sweet and pleasing. The three men kneel on their chosen cushions and the priestess seats herself across from them.

 

“What we seek is an alliance. In exchange for your admittance into the Federation, you and your people will be given protection and shielded from any intergalactic forces that may threaten your way of life here.” Jim explains carefully.

 

The woman looks thoughtful. “I see. And what would your Federation gain from such a partnership?” Spock and McCoy exchange glances.

 

“We would like to mine the crystals your planet possesses in abundance. This would be done without harming the plant and animal life, and with minimal manpower and machinery, of course.” Jim looks hopeful.

 

“Before I can agree, Captain, I must first ask you and your crew to participate in a ritual. You must be deemed worthy by the Great Mother and accept her into yourselves. As a seer of Her desires and the enforcer of Her will, I will help you complete the necessary requirements. Once these terms are met, then, and only then, will I agree to join your Federation.”

 

The expression on Jim's face falls slightly. McCoy swallows thickly, not entirely sure he wants to find out what this ritual will entail.

 

“What would you have us do?” Jim asks cautiously.

 

“The Great Mother is our creator. She makes our land rich, our women fertile, our men potent. She allows us to live comfortably as we do. But for all that She gives us, She must also take. She feeds from our life energy, eats the souls of our dead. We grow weak after a time and must recover the energy She takes from us. Three times a year we choose a sacrifice to appease the Great Mother. She receives the soul of the chosen one, and we feast on the remains. In this way, we recover our life energy. You, my friends, must take part in this ritual to prove yourselves to Her, and to us.”

 

McCoy goes pale and feels sick to his stomach. He chances another look and sees that Jim and Spock appear to be reacting much the same way.

 

“Now wait just a minute. I'll not decide which of my men I'm going to murder, and I certainly won't desecrate him in such an inhuman way!” Jim announces. Spock reaches over and firmly grips Jim's shoulder. The priestess looks angry and offended.

 

“What the Captain means to say,” Spock interjects, “is that this practice in our culture is viewed as particularly heinous and unacceptable. For this reason, we will be unable to take part in a ritual which goes against the values of the culture in which we were raised. Perhaps there is something else we can do to appease the Great Mother and contribute to the life energy She has taken from your people.”

 

For a long moment the room is silent. She seems to understand and accept Spock's explanation, to McCoy's relief. Leave it to the hobgoblin to logic his way out of trouble.

 

“There is another way.” The priestess explains. “You may instead voluntarily give up your life energy and expel it onto one worthy individual. The essence of each person will be gathered into the body of the chosen one. Once the ritual is completed, the Great Mother will extract the collective energy from the body of the holy one. But I must warn you. This ritual is, under normal circumstances, expressly limited to the high priestess. But I am strong in mind and spirit. If your chosen one is not, She will consume everything that he is. Death will be imminent. Do you accept these terms as an alternative?”

 

“Respectfully, we'd like a moment to discuss. Would that be all right?” Jim asks calmly. The priestess nods and exits the room.

 

“Don't be too hasty, Jim. We don't even know what this means.” McCoy points out nervously. “How exactly does one 'voluntarily give up their life energy’? This is way too fishy. I say we forgo this whole thing and tell the Admiral it was a no-go.”

 

“Your course of action is heard and duly noted, Bones, but we haven't got a choice. We've got to have access to the planet. Now let's think about this for a second. She said that this… energy, is expelled onto the person. That must mean that it's something physical. Something organic produced by the body.” Jim pauses and rubs his face in exasperation as he wracks his brain.

 

“Blood, maybe?” McCoy offers, thinking out loud. “Wait, that can't be it. When she was explaining that cannibalistic ritual she said that they _eat_ the body. Then that probably means the sacrifice is drained of blood.”

 

Spock, who has been relatively quiet up to this point, finally cuts in. “I believe the 'essence’ she was referring to is semen.”

 

Jim looks downright shocked while McCoy splutters, flushing in embarrassment.

 

“By that logic, this ritual is basically just a glorified gangbang,” Jim comments thoughtfully, looking like he is deciding whether to be disgusted or turned on. Knowing Jim it's probably the latter.

 

“Rather crude, but essentially correct. As this will likely not result in death, I suggest that we agree to pursue this route.” Spock says, all business.

 

“Well that's all well and good, but who's going to be the poor bastard in the middle?” McCoy questions heatedly.

 

Both heads turn to stare pointedly at McCoy.

 

“Now you two listen here! I'm not about to—”

 

“Doctor, I have learned quite a lot from our short visit here,” Spock swiftly interrupts. “These people hold a tremendous esteem and respect for medicine and it's practitioners. This temple, these archaic practices, they are not religious in nature. Yes, the natives perform sacrifices to appease their deity but not for the purpose of worship. Rather, they are for preserving the health of the planet and it's people.”

 

Jim quickly catches on to what Spock is getting at. “Therefore, Mister Spock, it stands to reason that Doctor McCoy here would be the logical choice for this ritual, given his abilities as a healer. Is that correct?”

 

Spock nods in agreement while McCoy gapes incredulously. “The priestess also mentioned that our individual of choice would need to be someone of a strong mind and body.”

 

“Well I think you fit that description pretty damn well!” McCoy snarls. “Why should I be the one to endure this?”

 

“Because, Doctor, _you_ are best qualified to handle contact with this deity.”

 

“You're not saying you actually _believe_ this nonsense?!”

 

“Of course not. However I _do_ believe that the high priestess and her people will consider you holy, given your profession. Surviving this ritual will prove to her that you are capable of communing with this Great Mother. That being said, you are most qualified to gain her good favor and succeed in our endeavor to forge an alliance.”

 

Well that all sounded rather… logical. McCoy sighs, accepting defeat. “Fine then. I'll do it. But I swear if either of you look me in the eye while it's happening I will stuff you so full of sedatives you'll be comatose for a month!”

 

Satisfied with those terms, Jim summons the priestess and relays their decision. She is very pleased with the news. They are lead to a different room deep inside the temple. The floor of this area is occupied with a mattress covered in silk sheets and overstuffed pillows. Surrounding it are innumerous candles, all off-white in color and flickering brightly.

 

“I will observe,” she informs them. “Summon the remainder of your crew and we shall begin. The more people present, the more life energy will be returned to us. Doctor McCoy, you may remove your clothes.”

 

McCoy swallows thickly and looks at Spock and Jim for support. Jim pats him gently on the shoulder while Spock appears sympathetic. Looking back towards the bed, McCoy takes a deep breath and begins to undress. For every scrap he removes, he can feel eyes burning more deeply into his skin. It's just his imagination, he knows, but sound reasoning doesn't help. He folds his clothes neatly and settles into the center of the mattress, burning with embarrassment.

 

A few minutes pass and Scotty enters with Sulu and Chekov in tow. Jim debriefs them but McCoy doesn't listen, doesn't even look at them. Instead he becomes very interested in a pillow to his left and fiddles with the material, willing his friends to just get on with it. _You're a good looking guy_ , he reminds himself. _At least you've got that going for you. No need to be embarrassed._

 

The men circle around him. Spock at his front, Jim to his left, Chekov on the right, Sulu and Scotty behind.

 

“Let the ritual begin.” McCoy hears the priestess say. He schools himself, straightens his spine and tells himself that he can do this. Until Spock's hands drop and begin to unfasten his slacks. _Oh God, this is really happening._ The sound of zippers pulling is all around him. McCoy stares at his own hands, wrings them together nervously.

 _Okay. Just don't look up. Don't look up ever again for the rest of your life._ The next thing McCoy hears is the familiar squelch of slick flesh. Sounds like it might be Jim, if memory of sleepless nights at the Academy proves correct. Kinky bastard like him could beat off to anything. Suddenly sitting cross legged doesn't feel comfortable at all. McCoy pulls his knees to his chest to shield his naked body and inhales deeply, stealing himself.

 

Seconds pass like hours. Eventually the war against curiosity raging in McCoy's mind reaches its end. He dares to look up. He's eye level with Spock's beast of a cock. As the alien's primary physician, McCoy has seen Spock naked countless times. Naked and flaccid, the details of his cock hidden by a protective sheathe. Never has he seen Spock erect. It's magnificent, really. The length alone is breathtaking. It's reasonably thick at the base and grows wider in the middle before tapering off again just under the double ridged head. The underside is ribbed and the top is littered with small bumps. It's color is marvelous, too. A deep forest green framed by dark, coarse curls. It's unlike anything McCoy has ever seen.

 

He realizes he's been staring. Spock is staring back, flushing dark with arousal. McCoy can't tear his eyes away. Thin fingers move over the hardened flesh with no sense of urgency. The pads press more firmly into the spot under the glans and Spock's eyes flutter just slightly. That must be where Spock is most sensitive, McCoy concludes with fascination.

 

Something slick prods his left cheek, starting him out of his thoughts. Against his better judgement, McCoy turns to look and is nudged again by a grinning Jim. “Cut that out,” McCoy growls. “Lord knows where it's been.” Still the man persists, stroking himself dangerously close to McCoy's lips. He reaches over and pinches the inside of Jim's thigh, earning him a pained hiss.

 

Jim's enjoying this way too much. McCoy's face burns but he doesn't pull away. Much like Spock, Jim is also well endowed. He's got a thick cock and a nice set of balls, a pretty shade of peach. A true blonde, too. This is not the first time McCoy has been on the business end of Jim's cock and it probably won't be the last. McCoy exhales slowly, feeling a little more relaxed and a little too turned on. He finally turns away when Jim gets a little too overzealous and tries to turn the encounter into an impromptu blowjob.

 

Then McCoy remembers that Chekov is standing to his right, looking more flustered and distressed than he was. Even in the face of this strange and embarrassing situation, Chekov still succumbs to his hormones and is energetically jerking off to the sight of McCoy's body. He's much smaller in comparison to the other two cocks McCoy has already examined. He would describe Chekov's as cute. McCoy almost wants to smile. He returns to his previous sitting position.

 

The room is feeling much warmer now. McCoy can't get a good look at the men behind him. He wants to see their equipment too. Trying to steal glances over his shoulder doesn't help, so he turns around.

 

What Sulu's cock lacks in girth it makes up for in length. He's not really touching himself yet, just thumbing the head and occasionally squeezing his balls. He seems to be paying more attention to Chekov than McCoy, which is just fine. Sulu's eyes are glued to Chekov's hand. And Scotty, he's not looking at anything at all. His eyes are squeezed shut. McCoy wonders what he's thinking about. Probably something related to the ship, he thinks with amusement. He's not really surprised to learn that Scotty is also well hung. McCoy's spine is starting to protest the twisted position, so he turns back to face Spock.

 

“Doctor, you are free to interact with the participants while the ritual is underway.” The priestess says suddenly. McCoy forgot she was even there. He continues to stare at Spock's engorged length, mesmerized by it's alien qualities. Now that he thinks about it he really would like to play with it, feel it's texture in his hand and his mouth.

 

Spock seems to read his thoughts and promptly drops his hand. McCoy takes this as a sign of consent and tentatively reaches out to touch it. The heat is incredible. He grips the base and drags his hand upward, intrigued by the feeling of each ridge and bump. The middle is so thick McCoy can't touch his fingers around it. When his fist nears the head a clear fluid wells up from the tip and leaks out over his knuckles.

 

“Self lubrication?” McCoy guesses. The substance is too thick to be pre-ejaculate. Spock nods.

 

“Hey what about me?” Jim whines and nudges McCoy's shoulder with his cock. “Mine wants attention too.” Apparently he forgot he was supposed to be acting like a captain. McCoy snorts. _Suppose I should be fair._

 

He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Jim's erection and strokes the two in tandem. Slowly, base to tip and back again. “Best hands in the 'Fleet is right.” Jim groans. McCoy is painfully aware of his own rock hard cock.

 

Chekov, no doubt feeling left out, begins to whimper impatiently. McCoy turns to look at him. Poor boy is wrecked and looking desperate. “Sorry, kid. Only got two hands,” McCoy says with a shrug of his shoulders

“You've got a mouth open.” Jim suggests good naturedly. “I don't know about you gentlemen, but I'd like to see Bones try to take Spock's cock.”

 

“I'd pay money to see that.” Sulu pipes up.

 

“I do not believe he could manage without choking, Captain.” Spock interjects.

 

At this, McCoy bristles. He never could back down from a challenge. “Oh yeah? A bottle of Saurian brandy says I can.”

 

“I would certainly enjoy watching you attempt it.” Spock challenges. _Pointy eared bastard._

 

McCoy rises up on his knees and shifts closer while Jim and Chekov close in on him. He can feel the heat of Sulu and Scotty's bodies pressing into his back. All eyes are on McCoy. Now he has to do this. After all, his pride is on the line.

 

Opening his mouth as wide as he can, McCoy takes the head of Spock's cock into his mouth one ridge at a time. Watching this, Chekov becomes absolutely _desperate._ He presses in close to McCoy's side and keens.

 

McCoy grunts and raises a hand to jerk Chekov's cock while the other works away at Jim's. And his eyes may have been bigger than his stomach because McCoy can't seem to get his mouth around Spock's shaft. While he waits for his throat to accommodate the stretch, McCoy rubs his tongue along the ribbed underside and sucks firmly. Fuck, does it feel good in his mouth. Perhaps on another day he'll ask to be fucked with it. Glancing upward, McCoy is pleased to see that Spock looks positively blissed out.

 

Behind him, Sulu and Scotty are getting antsy. He can feel their cocks leaving sticky paths along his shoulder blades and spine. Too bad he doesn't have any extra hands. But he does, McCoy realizes, have two unoccupied armpits. He raises his elbows and grunts pointedly. Sulu is the first to stuff his cock in the available space. Scotty follows suit. The feeling is… strangely satisfying. He's stimulating five cocks at once and that has to be some kind of record. McCoy feels oddly proud.  

 

Spock nudges his hips gently and McCoy tries again to swallow his impressive length. This time he gets it all the way in his throat. Jim curses softly as he watches. Chekov looks impressed.

 

McCoy manages to work himself into a good rhythm. It takes some extreme coordination to handle everyone at once, but McCoy is quite dextrous. Stroke, suck, squeeze. Stroke, suck, squeeze. Scotty and Sulu have found their own pattern. Hot flesh rubbing into his skin is stimulating McCoy in ways he never thought possible. He wants to touch his own cock so badly. It twitches longingly between his legs.

 

As expected, Chekov is the first to reach the inevitable end. His young body is overstimulated and not yet practiced enough to hold it. He pulls out of McCoy's grip and jerks himself off furiously. The first splatter of come falls on McCoy's right side. The next lands on his hip. Chekov keeps stroking hurriedly and paints his essence over McCoy's thigh before he's finished. He sits down on the mattress and lays back, sated and exhausted.

 

With a newly freed hand McCoy is finally able to touch himself. He strokes his cock lazily, just enough to take the edge off so he can focus on Spock. He moves his mouth back and forth, revels in the feel of textured skin moving in and out of his throat. He never thought giving head could feel this good. Jim also seems to be too caught up in the erotic display to properly thrust his hips into McCoy's fist.

 

Sulu is the next to go. Set off by watching Chekov in the throes of orgasm, McCoy surmises. Sulu thrusts into McCoy with desperate need. When he comes he does so on McCoy's back. The slick hot fluid rolls down his spine, reaching steadily for the swell of his ass. Scotty adds to the mess, coating him liberally. They sink to the floor, down for the count.

 

Only Jim and Spock remain.

 

“I must warn you, Leonard.” Spock begins cautiously, sounding slightly out of breath. “The heat of my planet and lack of natural water sources once made it very difficult to procreate. We were forced to adapt to the harsh conditions to ensure the creation of offspring and the prolongation of our species.”

 

Jim was _very_ interested in where this was going. “Does that mean–”

 

“Yes. My body produces excessive amounts of sperm.”

 

Apparently that mental image alone was all Jim needed to go barreling towards the precipice of orgasm. He comes all over McCoy's left side. It coats his ribs and splatters onto his thigh. McCoy feels like he should grimace at the slickness covering his body but all he can do is moan into Spock's cock. _I must be one sick bastard to be getting off on this_ , he thinks. _At least I'm not the only one_.

 

Spock's stamina is truly a thing to be marveled at. McCoy sucks and strokes and rubs his tongue into every inch of flesh and still there seems to be no end in sight. _Come on you sexy bastard, just come already. Come all over me. I want you to make a mess of me. Claim me, mark me up._ Spock grunts and thrusts hard into McCoy's throat. Then McCoy remembers that Spock is a _touch telepath_ and probably heard every filthy thing he just thought. Perhaps that's how he can get Spock to lose it.

 

_Your cock tastes so good, Spock. It's so fucking big, I never thought I'd get it all in my mouth. It's amazing. Never had anything like this before. I bet you come a lot, don't you. I bet you'd really like to let it loose all over me, let everyone back home smell you on me. You'd like that, huh?_

 

Another strained grunt. He's getting close.

 

_I really want you to. I want to bathe in it. Suck you dry then clean it all up with my tongue. Wouldn't want to waste a drop. I'm sure it tastes good. You want that, don't you? Want to mess me up?_

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Spock growls low in his throat and drops a hand to fist in McCoy's hair.

 

_Well then what the hell are you waiting for? Give it to me, already._

 

That is all the encouragement Spock needs. His whole body tenses and he begins to release. McCoy nearly does choke. He pulls off the pulsing shaft as Spock's seed fills his mouth. It spills out onto his face, down to his chest, covers his stomach. McCoy squeezes his eyes shut just in time. A thick strand catches in his lashes and strings down onto his cheek. It pumps out endlessly, covers his thighs and his own twitching cock, begging for its own release. McCoy helps him along, jerks him off and laps at the leaking head. He wants to milk out every last drop. Finally Spock's balls empty and he struggles to remain standing.

 

Using Spock's come as lubricant, McCoy frantically strokes himself and orgasms onto his own stomach. He collapses back onto the bed, feeling drained, used, and filthy.

 

Most of all, satisfied.

 

* * *

 

Back aboard the Enterprise, the crew celebrates its most recent success. They warp out of orbit and send news of their newest Federation planet to the admirals.

 

“Well done, Bones. This friendship was forged entirely by your hands.” Jim says proudly.

 

At the helm, Sulu snorts loudly. McCoy ignores it.

 

“I believe you owe me a brandy.” McCoy reminds, a small smirk on his face.

 

Jim chuckles. “Only if you promise not to retire.”

 

“Retire? Why, Jim. I'm sure I don't know what you mean.” McCoy can't be entirely sure from this angle, but he could swear Spock is smirking into his viewfinder. Smug bastard.

  
“Very good, Bones. Very good.”


	4. Orgasm Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim participates in a game of willpower.

Most people like to end a difficult work week with a bottle of booze or a night out with friends. But most people aren't captains of a starship, and a little liquor and socialization aren't enough to lessen the blow of a lost crew member or a failed mission. Jim Kirk has slightly different methods of coping. When he's broken down and verging on hopelessness, he finds himself waiting outside of his CMO's quarters. Leonard McCoy takes one look at those bloodshot eyes and knows exactly what Jim needs. A night with no control. One night without being responsible for four hundred people. Just one night where he can be anyone but Captain.

 

In here, Jim is simply a man. No orders to give, no decisions to make, just take and take and take. In this room, McCoy is in charge and Jim lives to serve.

 

“Thought you might like to try something new tonight,” McCoy says as he gestures to the restraints laying innocently on the bed before them.

 

“Hardly. You tie me up all the time,” Jim reminds matter of factly, looking unimpressed.

 

At the minor rebellion McCoy clicks his tongue and molds himself to the curve of Jim's back. “Oh no, you misunderstand,” he drawls lazily into Jim's ear, thick and smooth as molasses. “It's not the position. It's what I'm going to do to you once I've got you all wrapped up.”

 

_Oh._

 

Just thinking of exactly what he's going to have to endure has Jim's pulse elevating and his pants tightening. The hand suddenly clenching in his hair and anchoring his head back isn't exactly helping matters.

 

“Take your clothes off for me and get on the bed. Hands behind your back and knees apart like a good boy.” Jim has half a mind to snort _yes sir_ but he knows better.

 

The gold tunic is the first to be removed. It comes off with a deliberate slowness, revealing only a pair of bronzed forearms. Jim can feel eyes boring into him, taking stock of every inch of newly exposed skin. It only frustrates McCoy who wants much more than that. The tight black undershirt peels away next, then the slacks. Jim can sense the satisfaction.

 

“Get on with it.” McCoy warns with biting irritation. Jim smiles innocently and removes his briefs before climbing onto the mattress. The leather cuffs are secured around Jim's wrists, pulled tight behind his back.

 

“Now here's how this is going to work,” McCoy says as he attaches a spreader bar to Jim's thighs. “I'm gonna play with you. Every part of you. And I'm gonna take my sweet time. Use my hands, my mouth. I might even stuff you full at both ends if you're a good boy. And you.” Jim inhales sharply as McCoy grabs his jaw and forces eye contact. They haven't even started and already his cock is straining for attention. “You're not going to come until I say so. You got that?” Jim pales. This was not the kind of game he had in mind. He manages a nod nonetheless.

 

“Good. Now here are the rules. You're going to warn me when you feel like coming. You can whine and squirm and beg to your heart's content. Hell, I'll even let you trash talk me. But don't you dare try to get yourself off. If I catch you humping something there will be consequences unlike anything I've ever subjected you to before.” The firm grip tightens to a near painful degree. Jim swallows thickly, traitorous cock twitching with interest. “You remember your safe word?” Another nod.

 

“Good. That's my boy.” Jim can't help but preen at the praise. “If you can do this, you'll get a prize well worth waiting for.” Now he perks up, earning an amused chuckle. Jim really doesn't need motivation, but it certainly helps. And he does love surprises.

 

Satisfied, McCoy leaves the bed and removes his own clothes. Slowly, one piece at a time, just to make Jim squirm. A little taste of his own medicine. It works wonders. That man is inhumanly sexy. Nicely toned arms, flat stomach, strong thighs. Even a nice trail of dark hair leading right down to his big cock. The barest hints of skin get Jim salivating. He'd strip naked and lay himself out over his captain's chair barred to his crew just to get McCoy to roll up his sleeves.

 

The bed dips, distracting Jim from his thoughts, and McCoy settles in behind Jim's back. He leans over it and strokes his hands along widespread thighs. Jim sucks in a calming breath and tries to mentally prepare himself. Just another challenge for him to overcome. He can do this.

 

“I've been looking forward to this all day.” Those hands are moving higher, playing at Jim's navel and moving steadily upwards. They leave goosebumps in their wake. “Oh I have so much planned for you, Jim. Better control your cock long enough to reap those rewards.”

 

“I will. You just watch me.” Jim challenges smartly. McCoy smirks wickedly against his shoulder.

 

“I sure hope so. Don't you know by now I want you to win? I'll even start off easy.” Calloused fingers reach the top of Jim's chest and tease over the tips of his nipples. “I love these cute little things. Bet they'd look good pierced.” Fingertips rub gently over the small beads of flesh, just enough to tickle. Jim can feel them growing hard under McCoy's touch.

 

“But then I'd want to play with them all the time,” he sighs mournfully into Jim's ear, as if inconvenienced by the very thought. “They'd be so tempting. I'd have to call you down to sickbay just so I could tug on them. Watch them get hard under your uniform.” McCoy pinches the nubs between his fingers while Jim shudders and tries not to lean into it. “Clamps, though. Now those would do nicely.”

 

While McCoy continues with this one sided conversion his fingers are toying relentlessly with Jim's nipples. They're tweaked and twisted and flicked back and forth. And Jim can't find it in himself to open his mouth to speak, knows if he does he's going to cry out. His cock is so hard already. The knowledge that he shouldn't seek further stimulation is at the forefront of his lust fogged mind, but that doesn't stop the arch of his back into the torturous touch.

 

“I'd let you pierce whatever you want,” Jim groans when his nipples are pulled, and he means it. His body belongs to McCoy and they both know it.

 

“Is that right?” McCoy muses. Wandering hands begin their slow descent. Jim loses track of them, far too focused on controlling his own breathing. This game may be harder to win than originally thought. “Even this? A ring would look awfully nice right here.” The words are accentuated with a harsh flick to the head of Jim's straining erection. As calloused fingers play with it until it leaks, Jim jerks violently and chokes on a gasp. The leather creaks in protest as the wrists trapped inside strain against it. This isn't even _fair._

 

“Bones, kiss me.” He needs something else to focus on. Something that won't make him come. “Please,” Jim begs, “I really want a kiss.”

 

“Of course, darlin’.” McCoy bends to oblige, sealing their mouths. Jim busies himself with exploring every centimeter of that wet cavern with a sinfully talented tongue. The kiss only lasts a few short seconds. Jim's disappointment is short lived.

 

The next thing to fill Jim's mouth is a pair of thick fingers. He sucks obediently, jaw going slack to accommodate the intrusion. They're treated like McCoy cock, given attention to all the right places. They start to move and Jim holds still to let them. In and out, in and out. His throat is fucked gently but thoroughly. His mouth is nothing but a toy. Curious digits slide along his teeth and play with his tongue, teasing along the underside and then sliding along the top. Jim almost gags when they try to push farther into his throat than he can take. Then they're retreating, pulling a thick strand of saliva with them.  

 

Jim watches dazedly as the fingers drop back to his chest to play with his abused nipple. It feels almost like McCoy's mouth is on him, tonguing him back to hardness. The slippery digits run over the little nub making it glisten in the artificial light. After it's teased to redness the other gets the same treatment. The chilled air in the room assaults Jim's damp skin. It makes him shudder and squirm.

 

“I think it's about time to give you some attention elsewhere.” McCoy murmurs suddenly, and his hands are trailing lower. They go right where Jim wants them.

 

Jim shamelessly bucks his hips into the inviting grip, throwing his head back onto McCoy's shoulder as his cock is squeezed just right. It is so very hard to force stillness. The urge to thrust is so overwhelming that Jim starts to sweat.

 

Undeterred, McCoy carries on lazily stroking. “That feel good?” He purrs into Jim's ear. “Oh, I bet it does. You're being such a good boy, keeping still like that. That's it.”

 

Jim is drowning in the melodic sound of McCoy's voice and the delicious friction of his hand. “Feels good, feels good.” He babbles, a slave to his own lust. The downward spiral takes its hold and Jim starts to forget that he isn't supposed to come.

 

“Good. I know you like to be squeezed nice and hard. How's that?” Without waiting for an answer, McCoy drawls on. “Yeah, that's just how you like it. Now I'll bet you want me to jerk you off nice and fast, is that right?”

 

Vigorous nodding earns Jim an amused chuckle. “Please, please, do it faster.”

 

For a moment McCoy hums thoughtfully, as though carefully considering the plea. “No. I think I'll take it nice and slow. Make you unravel a little bit more.”

 

The hand slows further and Jim whines in frustration, bucking into the grip as much as he's able. His arms are starting to ache from being pulled taut but the ache in his balls is much worse than that. “You're a sadistic bastard!” At this McCoy laughs.

 

“Right you are.” A bottle of lube (where did that come from?) is being upturned and a thick steam pours out onto the head of Jim's cock. It rolls down over the shaft and slicks his balls. And before Jim can blink his cock is being fisted with breakneck speed. “But you always come back for more and I give you just what you need.” The words barely register. All Jim can do is moan and writhe against McCoy's chest.

 

And McCoy doesn't stop. Heat begins to pool at the base of Jim's spine and he knows it's only a matter of time. Just as he's skirting the edge of sweet relief, the hand retreats.

 

Jim seizes and chokes on a gasp, strains hard against the leather binding his wrists until the skin grows red. They don't give even a centimeter. Cries of protest fall on deaf ears.

 

“You're doing a lot better than I thought you would,” McCoy praises as he pats Jim's stomach affectionately. Then Jim is repositioned onto his back. He stares blankly at the ceiling. “Now you tell me when you're ready for more.”

 

While he waits, McCoy rifles around in the bedside table for something that Jim can't see but can only assume whatever came out of there spells bad for him. After an indeterminate amount of time Jim decides he's up for round two.

 

“Hold still,” McCoy says as he grabs the bar between Jim's thighs and uses it to bend him in half. “Now that is a hell of a sight. The mighty Jim Kirk all spread out and begging for it.”

 

If he were a lesser man Jim may have felt some degree of shame. But as he gazes through half lidded eyes at the man between his legs scrutinizing every inch of him, Jim feels only arousal. “Want you now.”

 

McCoy smiles fondly and strokes the inside of a thigh. “Too soon for that. I have much more in store for you.”

 

Jim's head flops down to the mattress so McCoy can't see him frown. His dismay turns to elation as a slick finger rather abruptly breaches his entrance. Jim squirms and tries to angle his hips to urge that digit to go where he wants it to, but McCoy has all the power here.

 

“There, ya see? Much too tight to handle me yet. We've got to get you nice and stretched all the way out.” Another finger joins the first and Jim grits his teeth with the effort it takes to stay still. To help the process along he forces his muscles to relax as best he can. He can feel the digits stroking along his inner walls, teasing and gently stretching. As quickly as they entered the fingers are retreating. Jim whines in protest, tries to clench around them and suck them back in. McCoy chuckles and coos, “Aren't you a greedy little thing.”

 

“Yes,” Jim hisses without hesitation. McCoy may have all the power here but Jim, he knows how to make a man unravel. “I want you to stuff me full. Want you to shove your fingers and your cock in me, open me up wide and fill me with your come. I promise it'll feel so good.” Jim purrs filthily.

 

The way McCoy's eye twitches tells Jim he's getting close.

 

“Come on,” Jim goads and arches his back to show off his nipples at just the right angle. “I know you want to.” He can't spread his legs wider so he settles for pulling his knees further towards his chest. McCoy, still holding onto the bar, moves with him.  Twitching his hole is a nice touch. “My ass is _so_ tight. It wants to have your big dick stuffed inside. Don't you want to?” A tempting offer that can’t be refused. They lock eyes and for a beat everything stills. “Fuck me up, Bones.”

 

McCoy inhales sharply and clenches his fists. _Jackpot_.

 

Before Jim can even breathe he's being yanked off the bed by the bar so fast he doesn't have time to catch himself when he collides with the floor.

 

“You little shit.” Jim winces as he's dragged away from the bed. The carpet chafes his arms still pinned beneath his weight but he doesn't dare complain. “You think you're in charge here?”

 

They come to a stop in the center of the bedroom and Jim gets a faceful of carpet. His wrists are freed and the next thing he feels is McCoy's weight on his back and a strong hand twisting in his hair. “You think you can manipulate me so easily? I don't think so, Jim. Down here _I'm_ in command. Not you. You follow my rules.” Jim knows he shouldn't be so turned on by the abuse but the way McCoy is growing low in his ear almost makes him want to lose on purpose. “I'll fuck you when I'm good and ready. Make you choke on my cock if I want to. Hell, I might not let you come tonight at all. But that's for me to decide. Get it?”

 

“I got it,” Jim splutters, sucking in air as he tries to follow the grip so his hair isn't pulled out. Yes, this is just what he wanted. Nothing makes him hotter than McCoy taking charge. It makes him want to misbehave for all the wrong reasons.

 

“Good.” Then McCoy drops him and Jim let's his head fall to the floor. He's hiked up in the middle, forced onto his hands and knees. “You gonna be a good boy and hold still for me now?”

 

Jim nods vigorously. “Yes sir.”

 

“Ah, that's better.” Jim thinks McCoy must like it when he listens. He can't see it but the sound of flesh on flesh tells Jim that McCoy is touching himself. Jim's head swims. “Now let's find out just how much your ass can hold.”

 

A string of beads is dangled in front of Jim's face. Ah, that must be what came out of the naughty drawer. Jim swallows thickly and fidgets. The beads are _big_. Not unreasonably so, but definitely big enough for him to feel quite a stretch. His cock twitches eagerly.

 

“Are you ready, Jim?”

 

He nods again, eyes fluttering shut. McCoy pries his cheeks apart, hand slick with lube. The blunt rounded edge touches his hole and Jim bites his lip as it sinks inside. It feels strange at first. Nothing like Bones. But it presses against his walls so pleasantly. The stretch burns but it feels so damn good. He wants more.

 

Sensing Jim's comfort, McCoy pushes in another. Jim can feel his breath ghosting against the swell of his ass raising goosebumps. “Wish you could see yourself. They look so good going in. Tell me how it feels.”

 

Oh god. He's got to talk but he can barely breathe. The beads are jostling inside of him, pressing in all the right places. “Big.” He manages brokenly. Pleased, McCoy presses a kiss to one cheek and then the other. Jim digs his fingers into the carpet and tries with all of his might to hold still.

 

“You're doing so well. That's two. Here comes another.” The warning is much appreciated. When the next slick bead slowly makes its way inside, the first one jams itself right into Jim's prostate. His arms give out, torso collapsing into the floor in a quivering heap. “Oh, I'll bet they're pressing into a really nice spot now. You're making such sweet noises. Think you can take another?”

 

Jim groans and shakes his head. He's so _full_. Bursting at the seams. There's no way he could take another.

 

Behind him McCoy clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Since when are you a quitter? I think you're underestimating yourself.” As the last bead begins to push into him Jim doesn't think his ass will take it, but it slides right in. “There. I knew it would fit. I'm so proud of you, darlin’.”

 

At the moment Jim doesn't have the capacity to focus on the praise. Every subtle movement forces the beads further into his prostate. Red faced and panting, Jim tries his hardest to hold still but he's trembling with need. The cock hanging heavy between his legs is leaking onto the carpet. He's going to lose the game. “Gonna come, gonna come.” Jim pants urgently. He's riding the razor's edge. It takes everything Jim has to rein in his orgasm.

 

McCoy helpfully reaches around him and tightly grips the base of Jim's cock to stifle his release. Jim sobs in relief, wanting so badly to please his lover and make him proud. “How about I let you suck on my cock? Give you something to focus on besides that nice ache in your ass.”

 

Jim nods eagerly as he straightens up and plants his palms on the floor in between his legs. He's careful not to touch himself. “Thank you, Bones. Thank you.” He pants brokenly before opening his mouth wide in open invitation.

 

He hears McCoy climb to his feet and the next thing he gets is an eyeful of that perfect cock. And then he's getting a taste of the leaking head. Fuck, it's so good. McCoy rubs it against Jim's mouth, teasing it along his lips before finally feeding it to him. Jim easily works up a rhythm. Obscene sucking noises fill the room, adding to their shared arousal. A hand drops to fist in Jim's hair and he doesn't even need to move his head because McCoy does it for him.

 

They've done this so many times. Jim rubs his tongue against the underside and sucks hard in all the right places. He looks up in time to see McCoy's eyes roll back into his head. He looks beautiful in the throes of ecstasy.

 

“Want me to come down your throat?” McCoy purrs haughtily. Jim groans and nods as best he can with his head anchored into McCoy's pelvis. A sharp tug forces Jim to slide down the throbbing shaft. He holds the tip on his tongue and waits patiently for that liquid pleasure to fill him up. It comes suddenly, spilling into his mouth and sliding down his throat. Jim sucks down every drop until no more come.

 

An affectionate pat to the top of his head tells Jim he's done his job well. With some reluctance, he opens his mouth and allows McCoy to slip out.

 

“I'm impressed.” McCoy says into Jim's ear. “You've been such a good boy. Didn't know you could be so well behaved.” Jim smiles brightly. “Now you sit and relax a spell while I take a shower.”

 

Before Jim can even begin to protest, McCoy gives him a sharp look. Jim whimpers and watches the man disappear. The sound of the water running fills the small space and Jim stares longingly at the door. But wait. This is a test, he realizes. McCoy knows full well that Jim could easily jerk off and wipe away the evidence on the bedsheets, returning from the shower none the wiser. Yes, this is the ultimate test of Jim's self control.

 

Can he trust his own hands? The ache in his balls is now bordering on painful. Maybe that's a good thing. The fullness in his ass is keeping him on edge. Every time he moves the large beads press into his prostate. They're going to milk the come right out of him if he keeps squirming. Maybe if he pulls them out he'll be able to last longer. But McCoy will surely get mad. He wasn't told to take them out. While Jim is slowly going mad McCoy is whistling a jaunty tune, happy as a pig in shit. The bastard.

 

He knows he can't touch. If only he could close his legs. Just enough to put pressure on his cock and take the edge off. No, he won't lose. He's come too far. With a determined huff, Jim resolves to stay exactly as McCoy left him. He digs his fingers into the carpet and focuses on the soothing sound of the shower.

 

When McCoy emerges, fresh and clean, he looks pleased to see that his pet hasn't moved. Jim grins triumphantly, forced though it may be.

 

“Well done, my little starship captain.” McCoy praises and slinks behind Jim. He's settled enough to press his ass back into McCoy's cock without consequence. “Ready for more, then?” Jim nods.

 

A hand between Jim's shoulder blades guides him back onto all fours. He's fairly certain what's going to happen next but his hunch doesn't adequately prepare him for the mind numbing feeling of the beads being suddenly and forcefully extracted from his entrance. Jim trembles and shouts into the carpet, fingers scrabbling uselessly for purchase as his arousal burns a fire in him so intense that he thinks he might just die. When the last one is removed Jim collapses, breathing raggedly.

 

It takes considerably longer for Jim to regain his composure this time. All the while McCoy is pressing kisses to his neck and running his hands over Jim's thighs, making it so much harder.

 

McCoy turns him over onto his back and pets his hair. Jim stares up at him, eyes half lidded and glossy. Completely wrecked. “I think you've earned your reward.”

 

“Really?” Jim beams, sweet victory filling him with a second wind. “What do I get?” He asks excitedly as McCoy unfastens the bar.

 

“Something I've never given you before.” Jim watches with rapt attention as McCoy applies a liberal amount of lubricant to his fingers. His eyes go wide as the hand disappears from view and with the way McCoy's is grunting it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's doing.

 

“You're not serious.” In every encounter Jim has always been the one to submit. They've never even entertained the idea of role reversal. The thought never even occurred to Jim. But now that he's being confronted with the unbelievably arousing view of McCoy fingering his ass open Jim realizes he's never wanted anything more. He begins to squirm with renewed enthusiasm.

 

“Oh I'm very serious,” McCoy drawls as he rears up and straddles Jim's hips. The head of Jim's cock touches the ring of muscle and slowly it's enveloped in tight wet heat. McCoy lets out a grunt as he sinks himself onto every inch of searing flesh until he's fully seated. Jim can hardly take it. He's cock is being squeezed so _tight_. There is no way he's going to last. Once McCoy starts moving, he'll be done for.

 

And sure enough, when the first upward slide comes Jim feels the tattered remains of his sanity fall away. His hands shoot to McCoy's hips as he tries desperately to ground himself. “Don't come or I'll stop,” McCoy warns, a little breathless, as he sinks back down. Jim is drowning in the pleasure of it. This must be what heaven is like.

 

“Tell me how it feels to fill me up,” McCoy prompts. “How's it feel to have your cock stuffed in my tight ass?” The pace is slow but the thrusts are deep. For a moment Jim forgets how to talk.

 

“Good. So good.” Jim moans. “So hot and tight and good.” Even though Jim is the one doing the fucking, McCoy is in complete control. He uses Jim's cock just the way he likes. Like a glorified fucktoy. Jim has never been so horny in his fucking life. “Harder, please. Bones do it harder,” he begs as he grinds his hips upwards.

 

Feeling oddly benevolent, McCoy raises up and gets on his hands and knees. He looks back over his shoulder at a gaping Jim, eyes glinting as he says, “You've earned this.”

 

In about half a second, Jim is stretching himself out over McCoy's back and burying his cock back into that tight wet sheath. He sets a vicious place, hard and fast, pounding relentlessly into McCoy as his fingers press bruises into strong hips. McCoy takes it like a champ. His head hangs between his arms and he digs his knuckles into his mouth to stifle his moans.

 

“That's it, fuck me good and hard. Oh yeah, right there.” McCoy's encouragement spurs him on. “Come on, Jim. Give it to me. Make me come.” Jim forgets about his own aching need and sets his sights on fucking the orgasm out of McCoy. The moans start pouring out of him and once McCoy starts he doesn't stop. “Do you want to come inside me, Jim? Fill me up to the brim and watch it leak back out?”

 

Jim can't take much more. He moans loud and desperate. “Yes, yes, please.” McCoy raises up on his knees and reaches back to hook an arm around Jim's waist. Yes, the angle is much better now. He can reach even deeper this way. McCoy is moaning unabashedly now.

 

“Do it. Make a mess of me.”

 

That's all it takes for his orgasm to crash into him like a tsunami. Jim pumps out everything he’s built up into McCoy's willing body. He's never come this much before and it just keeps coming. Each wave grabs Jim in an undertow, pulls him back into the endless abyss and he's floating, boneless, weightless.

 

When he's come down from his high, Jim realizes he's back on the bed. His hair is damp and his skin smells like the soap McCoy uses. Did he black out? That's never happened before. He opens his eyes and when he does McCoy is already looking at him.

 

“So?”

 

Jim furrows his brows in confusion. “So what?”

 

McCoy chuckles and inclines his head slightly. “Was it worth the wait?”

 

“Very much so. Best orgasm I've ever had.” Jim announces. And that's saying something coming from him. He rolls over onto his side and curls into McCoy's, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck.

 

“Feel better?” McCoy asks, voice full of concern and love, so unequivocally Bones. Jim feels his heart swell.

  
“Yeah,” Jim mumbles contentedly and closes his eyes again, ready for a well deserved rest. “Much better.”


	5. Public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock indulges in a personal kink and fulfills his mates' in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-authored by the incredibly talented dicklomatticimmunity. More collaboration to come! An amazing experience and hopefully this installment will make up for the amount of time it took to write it. All credit for this idea goes to my precious partner in crime!

 

McCoy takes a careful sip of his drink as he flips open his communicator and sets it down on the table in front of him. He glances towards the door to his quarters and prays that nobody’s in need of emergency care for the next hour. Spock has a promise to keep, and if surgery takes him away from his reward, he’s going to be mighty angry.

 

As though sensing his thoughts, he hears static from his communicator as the other end of the line crackles to life. McCoy steps away, refills his drink even though it’s only slightly emptier than it was before, then settles back down at his desk, patiently awaiting further developments.

 

Loud music filters through the communicator. McCoy takes a sip of his drink as he ponders how more enjoyable the music sounds in person.

 

“You sure this is the place?” Jim’s voice comes through, a bit strained. He must be shouting.

 

“I believe so.” Spock’s reply is much louder. McCoy winces a little.

 

“Seems a bit crowded for your usual liking.”

 

“The place I spoke of is downstairs,” Spock says. “Follow me.”

 

The music fades a little, but it becomes much more muted when he hears the sound of feet on stairs. The sound of wood creaking with each step is noticeable over the music now, their footfalls reverberating, bouncing off the walls. The entire stairwell must be built out of wood.

 

McCoy leans back in his chair and closes his eyes as he does his best to picture the place Spock had said he was taking Jim. Spock had told him that locals often call the place a ‘speakeasy’, long after the need for the term died out. He had described it as a small, cozy room, with several booths on either side of a hallway. The entire room would be colored in dark woods and burgundy fabrics, accentuated with light that gives it a definite feeling of a place where covert, possibly even _naughty_ discussions could take place.

 

He wonders if Jim has started sweating yet. The footsteps stopped several moments ago.

 

Jim speaks. “This was your idea, Spock.”

 

“I thought it might please you more to choose,” Spock replies.

 

A very skeptical Jim browses the assortment of red velvet-clad overstuffed seats and their matching dark curtains. There are a few patrons scattered about the room, talking quietly and nursing alcoholic concoctions, taking no notice of their arrival. He decides a spot in the corner would serve their needs just fine.

 

Spock follows his captain and takes the seat opposite him. A little cushy for his liking, but comfortable nonetheless. The music is blaring just above them but the only indication of it is a low thrum pulsing through the ceiling. Remarkable architecture from an archaic era.

 

“You're not playing some kind of joke on me, are you?” Jim asks dubiously, looking as tense as he feels.

 

“I had assumed you knew me better than that,” Spock counters smoothly.

 

Accepting that, Jim leans a little farther over the table. “Why here, then? Surely our quarters would have been an equally suitable location.”

 

The ephemeral quirk of Spock's lips that would have been a full fledged smirk is the only answer Jim needs. “I believe the stakes are higher in this setting.”

 

“Didn't take you for a gambling man, Mister Spock.” Jim teases wryly, sliding into the game easily. “That's the kind of thing I'd expect from Bones.”

 

McCoy snorts at the communicator and rolls his eyes. While the playful banter is entertaining, he hopes they'll just get on with it. He's a busy man with a schedule to keep. Of course, that's only an excuse. He's been giving Spock lessons concerning a very specific skill over the last two weeks and to say he's anxious to enjoy the fruits of his labor would be an understatement.

 

“I have learned much of the illogical habits driven by human vices.” Spock leans closer, crowding into Jim's space with a practiced ease and no hesitation. His voice lowers, a deep rumble that reverberates through Jim's chest as he implies, “Much that I am eager to investigate personally.”

 

Jim swallows thickly. He can feel Spock's words against his cheek. Already his senses have heightened. He needs to appear as though he isn't currently being swept off his feet.

 

With a thoughtful expression, Jim tilts his head to the side and drops his cheek in an upturned palm. “All right, then. I assume you have a wager?”

 

“Indeed.” It takes Spock a few seconds too long to answer, distracted by the way Jim's lips part just enough to see the outline of the tongue hiding inside. “I have made a deal with the doctor. I believe one month without mandatory physicals serves as sufficient winnings.”

 

“Sufficient indeed.” Jim agrees. “Though I hardly see how that's a reward for you, considering your indifference on the matter.”

 

If Spock had the freedom of unrestrained expression, he may have chosen that moment to chuckle. “Should I emerge victorious, I will name terms more relevant to my interests.”

 

At this curious new development, McCoy perks and leans closer to the communicator. What could Spock possibly want? This was not part of their earlier discussions. He'd just assumed that breaking Jim down to a quivering mess without even touching him would be reward enough for the Vulcan.

 

Jim doesn't press. Apparently he's confident enough in Spock's supposed lack of sexual prowess, specifically the ability to make him come with words alone, to be worried. The poor bastard.

 

“You've got yourself a bet.” Jim's free hand slides across the table towards Spock. Long fingers remain still against the wood even as Jim's index creeps innocently up Spock's pinky. “I'd shake on it but I think that may be considered cheating.”

 

“On the contrary. I believe providing you with a ‘head start’ is the least I can do.” Spock replies easily.

 

At this Jim chuckles, adrenaline already pumping as he itches to rise to that challenge. “Big talk for a guy going up against someone with my reputation.” He returns his hands to their respective side of the table, watching with rapt attention as Spock's hands boldly chase after his.

“You are incredibly confident,” Spock muses with the barest hints of amusement. If Jim didn't know his First as well as he did, he would have missed it. “I find that fascinating, considering not two hours ago I had your cock in my mouth while you begged me to let you come.”

 

The onslaught of molten lust that crashes into Jim like a Romulan warbird threatens to crumble his resolve right then and there. He leans back into the plush velvet cushion and snorts, averting his eyes to the black tiled floor beneath them. Spock continues to stare with such intensity that Jim is facing the possibility that he could actually _lose_.

 

“Where'd you learn to talk like that?” Jim asks half-heartedly, a little too hot under the collar. He doesn't really expect an answer.

 

“I believe a more relevant question would be are you prepared to be talked to orgasm in such a crowded location?”

 

Jim is thankful he hasn’t ordered alcohol yet; it would be embarrassing, to say the least, if he were to choke on his drink and get alcohol burn in his nose this early. He takes a deep breath, and feels his cheeks turning slightly pink.

 

He smiles as confidently as he can and does his best to appear relaxed. “You’re very bold, Spock.”

 

A waitress stops by their table, and inquires about what they would like to order. Jim briefly glances over the menu and asks Spock about a wine on the list. They agree, and the waitress takes their order before vanishing down the hallway.

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jim says, when they’re alone again.

 

“Nor did you answer mine,” Spock replies.

 

Jim smiles, and decides that two can play at this game. He drops his voice slightly and leans forward again, letting his breath ghost over Spock’s cheek. “I think the real question is what you intend to ask Bones for, should you succeed. Is he going to suck your cock every day for a week? Tie you to his bed and fuck you senseless? Indulge you in a kink of yours I don’t know about?”

 

McCoy swallows, then takes a long drink of alcohol. He had feared this might happen, but he’s confident that he prepared Spock well-enough to deal with Jim’s tactic. He tugs at the collar of his shirt and shifts slightly in his chair, aware of his own arousal, but ignoring it for now. He has more important things to pay attention to.

 

Spock takes Jim’s question in stride, and lowers his own voice a notch. “Perhaps I will convince him that you need to be restrained, yourself, and have both of us take turns with you.”

 

The waitress appears, with two glasses and a bottle. She pours the rich red liquid into their vessels, then leaves. Spock pulls the curtain closed, cloaking both of them in the dim light of the booth. It’s quite the atmosphere, Jim thinks, and perfect for Spock’s purpose.

 

“I’d like that,” Jim admits, daring to meet Spock’s eyes again, as he takes his wine glass. He has to find a way to get to Spock somehow. “Maybe you would, too. How would you like to have me fuck you while Bones takes your cock down his throat?”

 

Spock considers the thought for several moments. Sensing an opening, Jim continues. “He’s so good at it, too. You’re so big, but he takes you like a champ, all the way to your balls. I bet it feels really good, too, being enveloped in all that heat. And when he sucks, I imagine you see more supernovas than you do on a night in the observatory.”

 

McCoy, not beholden to the same rules Spock has applied to Jim, hastily unzips his slacks. He had debated with himself about holding off alongside Jim, for fun, but it’s a battle he’s swiftly losing. He’s already hard, and can only hope that Jim’s own words are having an effect on Jim as well.

 

He also hopes that Spock is faring better than he is.

 

“An interesting proposal.” Spock admits. Jim smiles wryly and takes a sip of his wine.

 

“However, to have either you or Leonard attempt to swallow me whole is hardly something I find the need to ask for.” He's leaning back against the booth now. Jim zeros in on the way Spock's throat works as he takes a swig of his wine and wishes his mouth was in the place of that glass. “Both of you have demonstrated your willingness quite spectacularly. And with immeasurable enthusiasm.”

 

And Jim can't even get aggravated because Spock is _so right_. If they weren't playing this little game Jim would crawl underneath the table and make a meal of Spock right now.

 

“You've got me there,” Jim drawls, trying to take the comment in stride. ‘Fake it 'til you make it’ happens to be a favorite motto of his, and Jim plans to demonstrate it to the best of his abilities. “I have to admit, it is my favorite thing to suck on. If I could get down on my knees at your station and suck your cock dry right on the bridge, oh, I'd do it in a heartbeat.”

 

Apparently Spock is picturing that because he takes in a breath and doesn't let it go. Jim seizes the opportunity. “You'd like that, huh? Like to make a mess of me while my crew watches? I fantasize about that all the time. What I'd really like to do is give you the conn, get you all comfortable in my chair, and ride you until you explode.”

 

“Of course –” Jim reaches across the table again. His fingers tease along the edge of Spock's sleeve, just enough to touch the fabric to his wrist. He doesn't miss the way Spock's hand twitches and arches subtly upward towards Jim's. “–You'd have to declare me unfit for command, first.”  

 

After taking several seconds to get his wits about him, Spock finally exhales. Jim hangs on it, anticipation burning a fire in his veins.

 

“I find that mental image to be rather satisfying. And while I enjoy the sensation of your body wrapped around me, given the choice, it would please me much more to be filled by you.”

 

“Oh?” Jim asks, genuinely curious, and getting the feeling that this is going to be his downfall.

 

Spock nearly smiles. “Do you recall the sex we had the night after our most recent mission?”

 

“Yes,” Jim says. How could he not? “It was the first time you – “

 

“Gave the orders,” Spock interrupts. “We’d discussed the idea the evening prior. You seemed agreeable to it, and so we proceeded.”

 

Jim’s pants are getting more constrictive. He shifts again, but the movement makes his pants feel even tighter. He sees the chance to get the upper hand. “I never would have thought you’d be one to take charge, but I enjoyed every second of it.”

 

“As did I,” Spock replies. “I ordered you to strip first. I wanted to see you naked – all of you.”

 

Jim fights the urge to not completely lose it. There’s a tension in the air now, a crackle between them. He wants to take Spock’s hand, to make Spock completely lose it, but he knows he can't. Does he get automatically disqualified if he touches Spock? He probably does.

 

“And I obliged,” Jim says, trying to steer this back in his direction. “Then I asked you to take your clothes off. I wanted to see you naked, too.”

 

“Yes, but I was giving the orders, not you,” Spock replies, and just like that, Spock is taking command of the conversation again, and that turns Jim on _so much_. “Next, I believe I ordered you to kiss me.”

 

Jim is starting to see the trap, but like a moth drawn to a flame, he finds the bait difficult to resist. He licks his lips, only catching himself after he’s pulled his tongue back into his mouth. He’s breathing harder, too.

 

“You did.” Jim swallows. “I crawled onto your bed with you. I was initially confused as to what kind of kiss you wanted, though –”

 

“So I grabbed your hair in my fist and pulled you close to me,” Spock continues, shamelessly interrupting Jim. “The response I elicited from you was quite pleasing.”

 

Jim’s cheeks feel much warmer. He takes a swig of wine, hoping that the alcohol will prolong his inevitable orgasm, yet knowing that it will likely do the opposite. “I didn’t know that being manhandled in such a way was something I would enjoy,” he says, almost defensively.

 

“It seems I know you better than you do,” Spock replied lowly. “I tightened my grip and watched you grow hard. Quite a curious response to being treated so roughly. Suppose I repeated the action at this moment. I wonder how you would react.”

 

 _I'd probably come right in my pants,_ Jim thinks.

 

A single daring hand skirts across the table once more. Jim's eyes widen as he follows the movement and sucks in a breath when Spock's fingers tighten in the collar of his shirt. The grasp is firm and unforgiving, pulling the fabric around Jim's neck and forcing his head further into Spock's space.

 

“You enjoy this, don't you?” Spock says, distracting Jim and pulling his attention back to those plush lips he so badly wants to kiss. “Are you getting hard right now?” And when the hell did Spock get so goddamn _bold_? They're so close Jim can feel each breath washing over his reddened cheeks. “I would check, if it were not against the rules of this game. I suppose we will instead have to settle for the memory of our last encounter.”

 

And Jim can't even think of a single word to splutter in response because he's far too caught up in the pull of his shirt and the promise of more.

 

Spock takes the liberty of reminding Jim just how hot their last coupling truly was. “And then I kissed you. I claimed your mouth and tasted every centimeter of you. Ah, I must commend you on your teachings of how to use my tongue for a proper kiss. I believe I have become quite good at it.”

 

At this Jim nods his agreement. “Quite the accomplished kisser, indeed,” he interjects, a little more than breathless. “I especially enjoy it when you use your teeth.”  

 

“I know that very well. I can feel you burning for me whenever we touch.” Spock leans ever closer. If Jim focuses hard enough he can almost feel the brush of Spock's lips against his. They're _so close_.

 

“While we made out I took your clothes off and you told me to touch you,” Jim reminds Spock, doing his best to manage a chuckle and trying to buy himself some time.

 

Spock didn't rise to the bait. “Yes, but we both know that what we really want to talk about is the moment you used your fingers to open me up.”

 

“All the better to tease you with. You get the most erotic look on your face when I'm spreading you wide.” Jim all but purrs, regaining control of the situation and putting his tactical advantage to good use. “Your ass tightens up so nice and tries to suck me in like it can't get enough. And you moan so pretty when I touch that spot deep inside. All before I even get my cock in you, too.”

 

Feeling confident and pleased with himself for regaining the upper hand, Jim pauses to allow Spock to conjure up the feeling of fingers prodding his hole. The way Spock's ears turn green tells Jim he's getting his way.

 

“I remember that night you were so eager for it you were outright _demanding_ to be fucked.” Jim almost can't stop himself from running his tongue over Spock's lips as they part to shakily exhale. “You made me put four fingers in you and that still wasn't enough.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Spock hisses, tightening his grip on Jim's shirt just a fraction. His tempting lips bypass Jim's cheek and go right to his ear. “It isn't enough. I want to be so full I'm stretched to my limits. I want to feel you inside me with every movement, every breath. I want to feel you fingers _and_ your cock, filling me to the brim at the same time, keeping me spread wide even as you pull out to thrust back in. And when you come I want to feel it run deep and struggle to hold it when you finally pull out of me. When I sit at my station I want to _ache_ inside so I'm reminded of every night we've shared together.”

 

“Jesus, _Spock_ ,” Jim whispers. He pulls a hand towards himself, almost has it over the table’s edge before remembering he isn’t supposed to touch his cock. His nails dig into the wooden surface instead. He very nearly groans, certain now that he’s going to have a wet stain against the front of his trousers. He’s so close, so fucking _close_ – he can’t even think of anything but Spock at his station, squirming in his chair.

 

“I want you to bury yourself inside me,” Spock continues, his breath more ragged. Jim allows himself a brief moment to think that Spock might come first, but Spock’s voice is low, husky, each syllable chipping away at his endurance. “I want you to fuck me _hard_ – “

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jim moans quietly as he closes his eyes.

 

The familiar sound of ripping seams reaches Jim's ears and he can tell that Spock’s fingers are going right through his shirt. “I want you to fuck me so hard that you have to dig your nails into my hips. I want you to mark me, make me _yours_ – “

 

Jim whimpers. The coil of heat that’s been sitting in the pit of his stomach is swelling, dangerously close to bursting.

 

Spock’s grip tightens and hauls Jim in close so he's damn near lying across the table. Jim barely hold backs a moan, his groin pressed against the edge of the wood, and fuck, but one thrust, and he would be there.

 

Spock’s breath, hot and searing, tickles his ear as he speaks slowly, emphasizing each word. “ – so that after we've come, after our hot bodies have separated, you can walk over to me at my station, on the bridge, and just _touch_ that spot, and make me _moan your name_.”

 

Jim let outs a quiet gasp as orgasm takes him, sending electricity through his body, making his toes curl in his boots. His entire body tenses, and he lets out a long, shuddering gasp before he’s spent. He relaxes, lying on the table, and not particularly caring that his ass is in the air – and at a perfect angle for Spock to fuck him.

 

“Fuck,” Jim gasps, as he slides back into his seat heavily, sated. “Jesus, Spock. That’s the last time I take your dirty storytelling skills for granted.”

 

Spock smirks slightly, which on a human would count as a self-satisfied glowing grin. “Leonard has taught me well, it seems.” He pauses. “Though we have spilled our wine.”

 

“Oh,” Jim says and looks under the table where their wine glasses lay on their sides, their contents spilled onto the wooden floor. He picks them up, and wipes them dry as best he can using the cloth napkin that came with the bottle. “At least we didn’t spill the whole bottle.”

 

“That would have been unfortunate,” Spock agrees.

 

Jim smiles and makes an attempt at regaining his composure. “We can’t have you leave here with a boner, Spock. Perhaps we should make use of a nearby bathroom.”

 

Spock’s smirk deepens. “Or perhaps you could get me off right here in this booth.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jim whispers, taken slightly aback. “While I admire your bravado, do you really think you can restrain a moan? You can be quite vocal in our quarters.”

 

“I am certain,” Spock says.

 

Jim grins and reaches over to palm the front of Spock’s pants. He squeezes the impressive bulge there. “Shall we bet on it?”

 

___________

  


Shore leave ends as quickly as it began, much to the chagrin of the ship's crew. As it turned out, Spock and Jim hadn't risked another erotic playdate in a public setting for the remainder of the week. McCoy wasn't particularly surprised, nor was he expecting a debriefing of the incident anytime soon. Of course, Spock always had a way of surprising him.

 

“Doctor,” came the level greeting from the sickbay entrance.

 

“Spock,” McCoy returns good-naturedly without looking up from his padd.

 

The sound of footsteps draws closer and McCoy doesn't need to look to know that Spock has sidled up behind him, close enough for their uniforms to brush but not enough to be unprofessional.

 

“I assume you've got a report for me.” He could have sworn he saw the man smirk out of the corner of his eye.

 

“You assume correctly.” Spock repositions himself more directly into McCoy's field of vision. “Though I fail to see the relevance, given that you had heard everything for yourself.”

 

“Of course you'd say that,” McCoy chuckles and tosses the padd onto his desk. His wandering hands find Spock's hips quite comfortable while his fingers burrow just under his tunic. “My dear hobgoblin. I get a lot of satisfaction out of your performance, but I enjoy hearing your thoughts on the matter just as much. I want to know what you liked about it. I want to hear it got you hot and bothered. And I want you to tell me what it was like having Jim suck you off under the table while the waitress took your lunch order. ”

 

Spock tilts his head slightly, clearly ready to protest the notion while his cheeks color a mighty pretty green. McCoy promptly cuts him off before he can even open his mouth. “But that's not why you're here.”

 

“That is true.” Spock admits. “I have come to name my terms.”

 

It would be a blatant lie for McCoy to say he wasn't burning with curiosity. He leans forward in his chair and nuzzles his nose against Spock's stomach. “It's about time.”

 

Spock’s stance slackens minutely, just enough for McCoy to know he's comfortable. “But before I do, I must know something.”

 

“Name it,” McCoy says as he skims his fingers along the hem of Spock's slacks. They don't have enough time on alpha shift to fool around, but the temptation doesn't abate itself. Maybe they could make time for a quick blowjob.

 

“Did you reach orgasm while you listened to me put your lessons to use?”

 

McCoy's hands stutter and he sits upright, looking Spock square in the eye. “Let me tell you something. You did such a good job, I came twice. And the second time I wasn't even jerking off.”

 

Satisfied, Spock allows himself a small smirk. “That is most pleasing.” He pulls out of McCoy's hold and starts towards the exit.

 

“Hey, wait just a minute, now!” McCoy stands abruptly and tries to grab for Spock's arm. His attempt is expertly evaded. “You said you'd tell me what you wanted. Are you gonna fess up or not?”

 

“On the contrary, Doctor. All in due time.”

  
Spock swiftly exits the medical bay, leaving McCoy frustrated and just a little bit turned on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned to find out what Spock wants. Want to see a particular kink? Comment below to let us know!


	6. Double Penetration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: What Spock Wants
> 
> CHANGES TO BE NOTED:  
> I have merged both parts of the bukakke kink into one chapter and deleted the chapter showing previews for future installments. Approximately 10 comments were lost because of this, so if you want us to hear from you, please comment again. We make sure to respond to every comment when we see them!

The anticipation of what is to come once beta shift reaches its end kicks Spock into high gear the moment he sets foot on the bridge. He has yet to tell the good doctor and his dear captain of his plans for them, but they were privy to the occasional brush of fingers and hidden smiles as he performed his duties throughout the day. Surely they knew that  _ something _ was coming. McCoy had long since forgotten about badgering him to make his request once the medical bay began bustling with activity, and Jim was thoroughly occupied with the responsibilities of captaincy that befell him. The conclusion of shore leave left Spock with the perfect opportunity to prepare, and finally he was ready to claim his prize. The day passed by with an agonizing slowness.

 

Of course, he found ways to keep the fire burning. On one memorable occasion, Spock visited sickbay and allowed himself a moment to indulge in Leonard's fondness for  _ teasing _ . He trailed his fingers along the swell of that perfectly curved ass and squeezed as he passed by on his way to the labs. The unsuspecting McCoy was quite thrown and promptly dropped his padd to the floor whilst emitting a decidedly undignified shriek. Spock was gone before McCoy could confront him, and feeling rather smug. 

 

Upon his return to the bridge following the scheduled break, Spock inconspicuously brushed his hand over the back of Jim's neck, pushing erotic images of their naked bodies writhing together into the forefront of his mind. Jim had to excuse himself, face burning with arousal and an obvious bulge tenting his slacks. And it did Spock's heart good to know that his mate was somewhere on the ship pleasuring himself whilst fantasizing about  _ him _ . Spock enjoyed an instant of self satisfaction.

 

Finally the long awaited moment is upon him. Beta shift comes to its inevitable close. It was highly unusual for Spock to be the first off the bridge. He was sure that he'd aroused Jim's suspicions, and Leonard's as well, among other things. The second he reaches their quarters, he punches out a message for his mates to join him, and they'd best not delay. It isn't long before the shuffling of feet and the familiar sounds of argument reaches his ears. As the door slides open Jim and McCoy are fighting to be the first inside. Spock smartly backs up towards the bed just in time to watch the two men trip over each other in their haste to get their hands on him. In the privacy of their dwelling, Spock allows a chuckle and  _ that  _ gets their undivided attention. 

 

“I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to,” Spock says. 

 

Jim frowns while McCoy snorts. 

 

“You can be such a cruel lover. Do you know how difficult it was to make it through the rest of the shift? You burned those images into my brain. I had to jerk off  _ twice _ ,” Jim complains, sounding nothing like a starship captain and instead resembling a teenage Terran boy. 

 

“At least you  _ got  _ relief!” McCoy interjects flippantly, jabbing a finger at Jim's chest. “He  _ groped _ me. In front of  _ Christine _ . She saw the whole thing! How was I supposed to explain that? He grabbed my ass and then left! I was in hell for the next eight hours!”

 

Then Jim starts to laugh, filling the cabin with a kind of warmth that makes Spock's heart swell. For a moment he forgets his impure motivations and almost considers settling for a cuddle. Almost.

 

“He did that?” Jim asks incredulously before looking to Spock for affirmation. The Vulcan simply maintains an innocent expression and dares to shrug his shoulders carelessly. If only they had known of the agony he faced while preparing for this moment. 

 

“My goal was merely to…  _ motivate  _ you,” Spock replies. 

 

“Well, mission accomplished, Commander Jackass,” McCoy bristles.

 

“My apologies, Doctor. In that case, would you prefer I hadn't summoned you? I had hoped to discuss the terms of the bet I'd won. But if you are not interested…” 

 

With the true intentions of this rendezvous revealed, the men change their tunes quickly. McCoy's expression softens and Jim looks deliciously eager. 

 

“Before I do,” Spock begins, ignoring the way Jim's face falls in disappointment of having to wait longer, “I must inform you that what I am going to ask for is something we have not attempted before.” Now McCoy perks up while Jim appears hopeful. Spock almost smirks. 

 

“It has long been a fantasy of mine to engage in intercourse with both of you at the same time. Since returning from shore leave I have been physically preparing myself and I am now ready to act on this desire.”

 

“You don't mean…” McCoy splutters in disbelief.

 

Jim has no problem supplying the rest. “You want us to double team you? You're talking about taking two dicks instead of one. That's what you're saying?” 

 

“That is correct. This is my request.” 

 

For several seconds a thick silence falls over the room. Spock lifts a curious brow as he watches them fluster. Evidently his mates are trying to process what he'd just asked for. It's quite endearing, really, watching the way their faces color and flush with interest. He almost smiles.

 

McCoy gives him a concerned look. “I’ll be more than delighted to fulfill your request, but I’m thinkin’ it’ll take some time to get you ready. More time than we have tonight.”

 

Spock begins to undress with a deliberate slowness. The uniform shirt slides easily over his head. “By all means, Leonard. Come inspect me for yourself.” As he says this, the uniform trousers take their place atop the tunic, each neatly folded. The decision to forgo underwear was made that morning, to his mates’ delight. 

 

“Don’t mind if I do,” McCoy replies, smirking broadly. As he takes his place between Spock's knees, Jim takes the opportunity to divest himself of his clothing, leaving the articles in a pile near the door. The untidiness of the previously immaculate quarters grates on Spock's nerves, but the mild irritation is dismissed in favor of more pleasing matters. 

 

The invitation for a physical examination is well received by the doctor. Spock allows himself to be rearranged onto his back. Although anticipated, the sudden attention to his rear elicits a most human reaction. McCoy's hands are a bit cold for his liking, but the steady pressure around Spock's hole is pleasing nonetheless. 

 

“How's it look, Bones?” Jim is attempting to get a better look over McCoy's shoulder, trying and failing to crowd into the small space, evidently unable to see as well as he'd like. 

 

“Well I'll be damned. He's loose, alright.” McCoy presses a fingertip against Spock’s opening, apparently delighted by the pliant skin. “Jim, get the lube,” he grunts with an outstretched hand. The tube is promptly pressed to his palm and for a moment Spock forgets they're in their quarters and not in the medical bay. “I'll have to inspect the area more closely. Hold still, now.” 

 

And how fitting it is for the doctor to take control of the situation. Only when the men begin fighting for more room does Spock decide to interject.

 

“Perhaps Jim would be useful as a second opinion,” Spock suggests. “The procedure would go considerably smoother, would it not? If you would relocate to the floor, I could aid in your endeavor.” 

 

McCoy and Jim exchange looks and agree to reseat themselves. All eyes are on Spock as he scoots to the edge of the bed and pulls his knees to his chest, presenting himself beautifully to his eager mates. After what Spock surmises is a thorough application of lubricant, the first finger breaches him. The texture of the digit betrays the mystery; it surely belongs to McCoy. 

 

“Barely any resistance,” McCoy says, sounding surprised.

 

“Have you started? My apologies, Leonard. I hardly noticed,” Spock replies blandly, which makes McCoy narrow his eyes. Predictably, another finger rather abruptly joins the first. This time without any of the delicate pressure typical of McCoy. It is exactly what Spock wants. 

 

“How about now?” McCoy asks with biting irritation.

 

Spock flexes, closing around McCoy’s fingers, before relaxing. “Better, but not nearly enough.”

 

“Let me lend a hand,” Jim suggests, taking the lube and pouring a generous amount onto his palm, then rubbing his fingertips together until they’re coated thickly.

 

“May I remind you that, though it would be intriguing to see if one of your fists could fit inside me, that is not the objective here,” Spock says.

 

McCoy exchanges a look with Jim. “Now that’s an idea we should save for later.”

 

“I agree,” Jim says. “Move over.”

 

McCoy obliges, allowing Jim to scoot in next to him. He presses a lube-coated fingertip over Spock’s opening, then pushes inside, sliding in to the knuckle with almost no protest from the delicate muscles. 

 

“Damn, Spock,” Jim whispers. “You prepared yourself well. I bet I could get at least three fingers inside you.”

 

“He’d barely notice,” McCoy chimes in bitterly.

 

Jim raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. He slides his finger out, then back in. The passage is, no doubt, noticeably looser without the presence of McCoy's hand to hinder him. “How does this feel, Spock?”

 

Spock’s voice is noticeably huskier, though he does his best to sound unimpressed. “If you believe you can fit three fingers inside me, I encourage you to attempt four.”

 

Jim smiles as he withdraws the digit. He squirts more lube onto his fingertips before returning the two to their home. “That’s awfully bold of you, Spock.” With the way Jim is carefully fingering him open, Spock concludes that Jim is not yet convinced of his ability to take them both without further aid. 

 

Unlike their esteemed Captain, however, McCoy lacks both patience and finesse where these affairs are concerned. Four more fingers push alongside the ones already present. At least, the girth of the intrusion would suggest that it could be four. Spock surmises, by the shocked look on Jim's beautiful face, that McCoy has taken the liberty of attempting the feat himself. It is  _ exquisite _ . The stretch of muscle, the roughness of McCoy's calloused hands, the burn of Jim's eyes on his quivering flesh, the feeling of two different sets of hands working him skillfully. Spock is not beyond the feeling of want, and he succumbs to it now more than ever. 

 

“Looks like I'm all out of fingers.” McCoy says smugly. His words are punctuated by a delicious flex of his hand.

 

The sheets are crumpled firmly beneath Spock's fists. He realizes belatedly that teasing his mates throughout the day has also made himself unbearably eager. His swollen cock is leaking fluid liberally about his stomach. This is not nearly enough to satisfy his needs. 

 

“Jim. Your assistance would be most helpful.”

 

The demand disguised as a request seems to jar Jim back to the reality of the situation. He does not disappoint. The stretched feeling intensifies with rapidity. A sudden wave of pleasure crashes into Spock with such ferocity that an errant cry escapes him. Seven fingers are stroking him from the inside. 

 

“Did you hear that? I think you found his prostate.” McCoy muses delightedly. Then Spock feels an incessant pressure against that very spot, and no amount of meditation could save him from such shamelessly human reactions. “You're really digging it in there, Jim. I haven't heard him moan like that since that time we discovered the joys of figging.” 

 

“Aah, I wonder what color he is inside.” Jim sighs dreamily, apparently more taken by the mystery than by the reality of past pleasures. “Dark green like his cock or light like his face?” 

 

“Only one way to find out. Let's pry him open and get a good look in there,” McCoy suggests candidly. 

 

Spock can't count how many fingers are forcing their way into his ass now. They're moving, pressing, sliding back and forth with no discernable pattern or rhythm. The thought of his lovers exposing him so crudely should disgust him, but it only makes him twitch with excitement. A few seconds later he's being bent in half at the waist and urged to hold his knees. What follows is a satisfying burning sensation from being stretched far too wide. It feels like two fists are working away at his inner walls, though he knows that to be inaccurate. Surely his body couldn't handle  _ that _ . 

 

“Shit. That's the prettiest shade of green I ever saw.” Jim says, and he sounds bizarrely genuine. 

 

“Does it feel good in there, Spock? Wish you could see how nice it looks with our fingers stuffed inside. We'll get you stretched out nice and wide so you can take our cocks nice and easy.” McCoy promises. 

 

Spock has endured all of the preparation he cares to handle. He takes note to mentally scold himself later for lacking his usual stamina. “Take me now. I can bear this no longer. Take me  _ now _ .” 

 

“Hold on there, Spock. You're not ready. Not yet.” Jim's confused expression mirrors Spock's own as McCoy speaks. “That Vulcan biology of yours is mighty good at getting you all slicked up inside, but surely that alone won't get you wet enough to handle us both. You know better than anybody just how  _ big  _ our dicks are, and it wouldn't do to let you chafe.” As he drawls with thinly veiled casualness, McCoy takes his time unbuttoning his slacks. Finally,  _ finally _ , he lets his cock out to play. 

 

And perhaps this one detail was overlooked. The doctor does have a valid point. “What– what do you suggest?” Spock asks, eyes fixed on that deliciously flushed pink cockhead. 

 

“Why, a little biology of my own, of course.” 

 

“Shit, Bones.” Jim practically moans, realization dawning on him. Spock also has a fairly clear idea of what is about to happen even without elaboration.

 

“Care to do the honors, Jim?” McCoy asks as he rises to his feet. Jim withdraws and settles off to the side. McCoy holds Spock's hole open with two hands, flesh pulled taught and begging for further penetration.

 

Spock's breath catches in his suddenly dry throat as Jim proceeds to tug on McCoy's cock with speed and efficiency. 

 

“Attaboy,” McCoy praises gruffly, canting his hips forward so that the head of his thick cock is resting just at the edge of Spock's hungry entrance. Unlike Jim, McCoy hadn't had the pleasure of excusing himself to correct the problem that Spock had created earlier that day. He was aching for release. Jim’s all too talented hand makes quick work of him. 

 

Spock's eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels the first spurt of hot come trickle down his twitching passage. Feeling every drop slide down into his body without having even been fucked into oblivion first is almost enough to elicit an orgasm on its own. It is so filthy and  _ wrong _ , but it feels so good. Jim makes sure to wring McCoy's balls dry.

 

“There. Now isn't that better?” McCoy asks after catching his breath. “My sweet little Hobgoblin. How I love to make a mess of you.” This he says fondly. 

 

It requires all of Spock's willpower to extract the pleasantly probing digits from his messy hole and rise from the bed. Spock grabs Jim by the arm and hauls him onto the mattress before he can even blink. Within seconds, Spock is seating himself fully on Jim's cock. A wave of sweet relief washes over him. 

 

“Why'd he get to go first?” McCoy complains, plastering himself to Spock's back.

 

“You have already enjoyed your first release.” Spock sighs matter of factly, reveling in the sensation of a thick cock simulating him much deeper than fingers ever could. Of course, the relief is only temporary. Spock is itching for McCoy to join. 

 

“Well, that's fine. I wanted to play more, anyway.” 

 

A strong hand guides Spock forward until he's resting on Jim's heaving chest. The logic of this position is not lost on him. Bracing himself for further stimulation does nothing to prepare Spock for the crippling pleasure of McCoy's fingers working their way inside his come-slicked ass alongside Jim's already sizeable erection. Beneath him Jim groans and tries to force his hips upward still.

 

“Hey Jimboy, how's it feel to have your cock teased while it's crammed up Spock's ass?” The southern accent is laid in thick now. Spock doesn't have to look at McCoy to know he's smirking.  

 

“Good.” Jim stutters breathlessly. “So good. I'll come if you keep that up.”

 

McCoy chuckles. “Already? You'd best hold off a bit longer. Want to see if I can get my hand around it. Wouldn't that feel nice, getting jerked off and fucked by Spock's ass at the same time?”

 

More pressure and a marginal increase in the pleasant burning sensation signals to Spock that another finger has been added. Suddenly, stifling the moans to preserve his dignity seems entirely unimportant. Apparently McCoy has forgotten all about their original task and is entirely dead set on bringing Jim to orgasm, using Spock's own ass as a toy for his personal amusement.   

 

The heat of McCoy's body is seeping into Spock's, bone deep and all consuming. If it weren't for the stifling environment of his homeworld for which his biology was evolved to compensate, he would be sweating profusely at this very moment. He can't even open his eyes anymore. The world is reduced to his own selfish need for sexual gratification. He wants to come so badly. McCoy is taking entirely too long to add his own body to Spock's pleasure.

 

“Leonard.” He means it as a demand but it's uttered as a helpless, shaken plea. 

 

“What's the matter, Spock?” McCoy coos into his ear. “You want me in there too? I bet it feels really good. You can feel every little movement, can't you? Every twitch of Jim's cock, every little flex of my hand, fresh come to keep you wet and warm. But this isn't enough for you, is it?” A pause in speech lets Spock know that he's supposed to provide some semblance of an answer, which he finds considerably difficult to reciprocate.

 

“No.” He manages to growl. If he employs foul language of his own it will cater to McCoy's fondness for dirty talk and that, surely, will get him what he wants. “While Jim's girth is incredibly pleasant on its own, I... desire a much more satisfying stretch. I want to feel you both inside, moving together and fucking me so hard I lose the ability to speak.” 

 

A firm thrust jostles Spock so hard he knocks back into McCoy, eliciting a muted grunt. 

 

“Jesus, Spock, you're so fucking hot. Bones, come on, fuck him already. If you keep this up I'll never make it past the first thrust,” Jim whines urgently, squirming restlessly under Spock's weight. 

 

“We've got to work on your stamina, Jimmy.” It would seem that McCoy had thought better of their physical arrangement. After removing his uniform, he moves around to Jim and rears up on his knees. “And you would do well with a lesson in patience yourself, Spock.” The painful pleasure that Spock has been craving dissipates altogether, replaced by an entirely different pain: a rough tug to his hair. “Sit up,” he orders, and Spock obeys, though his body feels like lead. As he does this, McCoy straddles Jim's head. 

 

“The faster you get me hard, the faster you get to come,” McCoy says. Accepting the challenge, Spock leans in for a kiss while Jim plants his hands on McCoy's hips and licks a wet hot stripe over his balls. They converge on him like photon torpedos on a Romulan warbird.

 

Spock licks at McCoy's lips until they part enough for him to push his tongue inside. When they kiss it sets his blood aflame and ignites his passions like nothing else can. McCoy grunts when their teeth clash and he retaliates with a well placed bite to Spock’s tongue. They make out with increasing fervor, nothing but urgent licks and sucking of lips with scraping of teeth anywhere they can reach. 

 

They touch while they breathe each other in. McCoy's hands are everywhere. Teasing his cock, flicking over his nipples, dragging down his chest to squeeze at his narrow hips. The wandering fingers skim around his waist down to the place where Jim's straining erection penetrates him. McCoy skirts a finger around the quivering skin of Spock's hole and Spock sucks in a sharp breath to swallow the filthy moans bubbling up in his throat. 

 

“Put it in,” Spock begs, arching into the hands now squeezing at his rear. 

 

“Ask me nicely,” McCoy murmurs lowly into a pointed ear. 

 

“Leonard,  _ please _ . I am going mad. I am  _ begging _ you to fuck me.” 

 

Beneath him, Jim releases McCoy's sac and bucks up again, jostling all three of them. “ _ Please  _ Bones. Let us have your cock already. Can we have it now?” 

 

McCoy chuckles. Sufficiently hard once again, he nods in agreement. “Alright,  _ alright _ .” Returning to his previous position, McCoy molds himself to Spock's back and grinds his hips into that perfect ass. “Don't I always take care of my boys?” 

 

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, Spock feels the white hot stretch he's been craving for days. Slowly, very slowly, McCoy's cock makes its way in the tight passage above Jim's. The burn is intense and unforgiving and every bit as delicious as he thought it would be. Spock can feel their erections straining and throbbing inside his velvet walls. 

 

“Tight, tight, fuck, it's so good. Squeezing me so hard,” Jim babbles, utterly wrecked. Seconds after McCoy is fully seated he's already pulling out, releasing a steady stream of obscenities as he goes. 

 

He slams in so hard Spock is thrown forward. He manages to catch himself at the last second, fisting the sheets to hold himself in place. 

 

They manage to build up a rhythm, one cock pulling out as the other is thrusting in. Spock is being fucked into the next galaxy, never going even a second without being stuffed full to bursting. It is unlike anything he's ever felt before. Eventually he collapses onto Jim's chest, unable to hold his boneless body up a moment longer. He's moaning freely now, not bothering to stifle any of the noises that escape him. Distantly his ears register the sounds of his lovers talking but he can't hear a word of it.

 

Orgasm crashes into him without any warning. It knocks the wind out of him, tenses every muscle in his overused, thoroughly fucked body, and he loses himself in the undertow. Floating in post-orgasmic bliss, Spock closes his eyes and lets the waves take him.

* * *

When Spock opens his eyes again, his mates are lounging on either side of him. McCoy is reading through medical reports on his padd while Jim peruses a Terran paperback of some kind. Blearily, he tries to sit up and finds he's much too exhausted to do so. The throbbing pain in his backside, though well worth it, is not helping matters.

 

Jim catches the movement and immediately puts his book down. “Welcome back.” He leans over and presses a kiss to Spock's cheek. “Was it as good as you hoped? You've never blacked out before. You came a lot more than usual.” 

 

Ignoring his rapidly coloring cheeks, Spock simply nods. “It was quite good. I was thoroughly satisfied.”

 

“We're very glad for that,” McCoy says, depositing the padd onto the table and rolling over to curl up at Spock’s side. “By the way, you have no idea how hard it was to get you into the shower. You're incredibly heavy.” 

 

“My apologies, Leonard. I will endeavor to maintain consciousness in the future.” Spock says flatly. 

 

“See that you do.” McCoy says with a touch of playfulness. 

 

For several calming moments, the three simply bask in each other's company without a need for conversation. 

 

Until Jim ruins it.

 

“Hey Spock. Tell me something.”

 

“What is it, Jim?” 

 

Jim props up on his elbows and fixes Spock with a level stare. “What exactly did you do to prepare yourself for tonight?” 

 

“Surely such an inquiry need not be answered. The necessary precautions were taken. Let us leave it at that,” Spock says, trying and failing to sound final. 

 

But Jim is having none of that. “Don't you give me that, mister.” Beside him, Spock catches the mischievous glint in McCoy's eyes. He pales and averts his gaze to the ceiling. Jim gets up and disappears beyond the edge of the bed. “Do you want to explain this to me, Spock?” In his grasp is a particularly large and intimidating-looking dildo. He pales further. 

 

“I do not.” 

 

“Are you sure?” He returns to his spot on the mattress and drops the synthetic beast onto Spock’s stomach. “Because I happen to know  _ exactly  _ where this came from. Are you sure you don't want to fess up?” 

 

“I do not,” Spock repeats.

 

A large grin spreads over Jim's face. McCoy has a similar expression, though Spock is trying not to look at him. 

 

“If you wanted to play with my toys, all you had to do was ask,” Jim says casually.

 

“Yes, Captain,” Spock says, doing his best to sound as bland as possible, and hoping the use of Jim’s title will be enough to shut him up.

 

It isn’t. Jim’s grin broadens. “Are you suggesting that you want to wear one on the bridge, Spock?”

 

Spock flushes a light green as a bolt of lust courses through his body. He can’t deny that the thought entices him as much as it mortifies him.

 

“I think that’s a yes, Jim,” McCoy says, his voice a velvety purr.

 

Jim smiles. He kisses Spock chastely on the cheek. “Come visit me sometime, Mister Spock. We’ll go through my toy chest together. We’ll choose the  _ perfect _  one for you.”

  
Spock’s flush deepens. “Yes, Captain.”


	7. Cock Warming/Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim tries to get on Spock's good side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set in the mirrorverse.

It's really quite lovely, this office that Jim has no business putzing around and yet _is_ and quite often does in his off hours. The furniture is plush and comfortable, sleek and elegant. They mirror their owner remarkably well. The decor is a little on the sparse side, but it's the books Jim likes most. The shelves are stuffed to the brim with all manner of interesting titles, and real paper to boot, but they can only hold Jim's interested for so long. The regular inhabitant of the office is what Jim's really after. And as usual, Spock is fully immersed in a heap of papers that need grading and pays no attention to the cadet rifling through his things.

 

Jim's been doing this for months. He could get by on his brains alone, sure, but no one gets onto an Empire flagship by keeping their legs closed and their knives sheathed. He's worked hard to earn Spock’s favor. And when Spock returns to the _Franklin_ for it's next tour, Jim's going to make damn sure he gets on that ship. Even if he has to sign on as the Commander's pet to do it.

 

The chronometer on the far wall tells Jim he's been in the office almost an hour now, and Spock hasn't said a single word to him. Becoming absorbed in a book is decidedly difficult when Spock is three feet away, so the efforts are abandoned quickly. Jim sidles up to his professor's side and drops his chin on Spock’s shoulder. “What time does your shift end, _Sir_?” Jim can feel the sigh more than he can hear it. A sign that Jim's become far too bold as of late, but he's letting it slide.

 

“Quite frankly, Cadet, that information is hardly any business of yours.”

 

He's right. Professors don't tend to make a habit of fraternizing with their students in such a casual manner. But this one does. Jim just smiles. He presses closer.

 

“Oh don't be like that,” Jim drawls, daring to brush his lips along the shell of a pointed ear. “If I don't know when you get off, how am I supposed to _get you off_?”

 

Spock doesn't answer, but his stylus has stopped moving.

 

“And here I thought you liked playing with me.” Jim makes sure that Spock can feel his pout against his skin. “I've been _so_ good, too. Done all my homework and read all of your books. And I always participate in class even though all I really want to do is lay myself out over your desk and beg you to fuck me. Honestly.” Jim presses his torso along the curve of Spock’s back. “I thought I earned a reward.”

 

“Doing what is expected of you hardly merits a reward.” Spock replies blandly, remarkably level and infuriatingly uninterested.

 

He’s playing really hard to get this time. But Jim's just a stubborn, and Jim isn't leaving without a formal invitation.

 

“Fair enough.” Jim lifts up and grabs the back of Spock's chair, spinning it around so they're face to face. “Let's talk about my extracurriculars, then.” He crowds into Spock’s personal space, caging him in with his arms, but the Vulcan doesn't flinch. Instead he has the audacity to cross his arms indignantly and incline his head, arched brow raised in clear challenge. Just daring him to try something. Spock could crush him like a bug, right here right now. They both know it. And it's an incredible turn on.

 

Fuck, Spock looks so good in those reading glasses. His eyes are intense enough without them. Uniform tight and stretched across his chest, hiding all of those perfect muscles. If Jim leans forward a little more he could get a peek right down Spock's shirt. Beautiful bastard.

 

“Let's talk about how well my tight ass takes your big fat cock. Remember when it wouldn't even fit? In your office late at night, I came in and propositioned you. You tried to make it fit, and you got off on my cries. Remember that?” The corner of Spock's mouth twitches. A would-be smirk. Of course he remembers. Jim never forgets. It was easily the best orgasm he's ever had in his life.

 

“Should we talk about how you worked my ass open, took your sweet time training me to take it night after night until I could take you balls deep? And now I can ride it like a pro.” This Jim says proudly. Spock looks amazingly calm for a guy who's monster cock is straining against the front of his pants. “Do you know how often I wore a plug to your lectures, just so I could be open and ready for you if you decided to come to your senses and fuck me against the podium?”

 

Apparently Spock is vividly considering that while simultaneously trying very _very_ hard to maintain his composure. But Jim doesn't miss the way the tips of his ears flush in spite of himself. Such a gorgeous green. Jim really wants to suck on them. But he wants Spock to want him more.

 

“Perhaps you'd like to discuss how well I can take your cock down my throat. You know, I've never tasted anything better. I could live off it. You could feed me your cum at mealtimes and I'd _savor_ it. When I go into space with you I'll let you feed me all the time. You'll still take me with you, right? If you do I promise I'll be the best damn yeoman you've ever had. A good body to stuff your cock in and some nice eye candy for you to oogle when you don't need me.”

 

Spock inhales, sharp eyes trained on Jim's throat. So deliciously warm and impossibly tight. It's a wonder how Jim ever managed to swallow the bulbous tip of his cock. Even more amazing that the first sight of it didn't scare him off. But it's no secret that Jim's a size queen.

 

“You assume I will let you get that far up the chain.” Spock reminds curtly.

 

Jim doesn't respond. He knows better. Instead he eases into the overstuffed office chair, bracketing his thighs around Spock’s and pressing a steadying hand to Spock's stomach. It dips lower and lower, dragging leisurely across Spock's torso. It comes to a stop at the hem of those too tight uniform pants.

 

“Can I have it? Please?” Jim purrs lowly, because Spock likes it when he's polite. “If you let me take it out I promise I'll let you get back to work. My throat hasn't had any exercise _all day_ . I'll sit right under your desk while you read and I'll suck on your big cock, keep it nice and warm and happy in my mouth while you grade those pesky papers. Doesn't that sound _nice_? What d'you say?”

 

For a long moment Spock continues to stare, arms stubbornly crossed and a subtle, barely there frown fixed on his absurdly handsome face. Jim stares back with as much ferocity and hunger.

 

This plan isn't working. Spock is in control. Always is. Jim huffs, ready to admit defeat and skulk back to his dormitory to jerk off in the shower. Just as he's about to pull out of Spock’s lap, a firm hand lands on his thigh.

 

“Lock the door.” Spock orders.

 

Jim wrinkles his nose. The victory reaches his cock before it makes it to his brain. “Wha—”

 

“Lock. The door.” Spock repeats, rolling his hips for good measure. Jim can't get off his perch fast enough. Grinning with delight, he inputs the locking sequence that Spock had given to him ages ago and returns to his position before Spock's chair, the ever dutiful cadet.

 

Spock stands to his full height and makes quick work of his pants. He lets Jim have the honor of getting his dick out, already wet and hard and twitching with anticipation. Jim licks his lips, ready to chow down on the thick organ hanging full and heavy over his slacks.

 

Just as Jim's about to drop to his knees to get his mouth on it Spock's got a fist in his hair, gently tugging the golden strands.

 

“Don't tell me you're going to make me look and not touch again.” Jim eyes Spock wearily, way too hungry for it not to attempt straining against the grip.

 

“Jim.” It's the first time Spock's called him by his name all week. “While I do have an affinity for you which far surpasses the line of professionalism, your daily presence in my office during working hours have decreased my efficiency by four point seven percent.”

 

Of course Jim knew that. He knows he's got an ass that won't quit and as long as Spock has something that Jim wants, Jim's going to keep coming back.

 

“Certainly such shameless and irrefutably inappropriate behavior warrants punishment. Remove your uniform and bend yourself over the desk.” Spock’s gaze is steely and positively _smoldering_. This is so much more than Jim could have hoped for when he entered the office to tease his favorite teacher. Jim's giddy as a schoolgirl as he strips down and pushes aside the padds on his desk to make room.

 

Spock steps over and sets his hand on the full globes of pliant creamy flesh. Jim purrs as his ass is expertly kneaded and squeezed.

 

“I believe you are overdue for an examination.” Spock decides. “If you were more intellectually stimulated, perhaps your time would be better spent studying rather than pestering me.”

 

The air is nearly crushed out of Jim's lungs as Spock leans over his back and settles there. “You seem quite confident in your ability to please me, cadet. I am going to conduct a thorough assessment of your body. We shall see if your skills are up to par with the Academy. Should you pass, I will consider allowing you full access to my personal quarters.” Spock doesn't say anything about the next mission. Jim takes it anyway.

 

“Oh I think you'll find I'm more than up to the task, Commander.” Jim pushes back into Spock’s hips, earning him a muted grunt.

 

A sharp smack to Jim's ass reminds him to mind his manners. He can only push so far.

 

“As you know,” Spock delivers one last harsh squeeze before moving around to the front. “I do not grade easily. I expect you will perform to the best of your abilities.”

 

“Yes sir.” Jim answers obediently.

 

A strong hand, one that has undoubtedly racked up a body count on behalf of the Empire, cards through Jim's hair almost affectionately. The elegant fingers lower to Jim's jaw where they squeeze and pull until Jim's open wide.

 

“I can see your mouth is obviously better suited for servicing your commanding officers. It's a shame you've wasted it on trivial conversation.”

 

Jim smartly holds back any comment. His restraint is rewarded. A slender finger worms it's way over Jim's tongue, along the roof of his mouth, over the tops of his teeth. Two more digits press inside without preamble, plundering the pliant mouth. Jim keeps his jaw lax while Spock plays, breathing steadily through his nose. Those sinfully talented fingers push, deeper and deeper until they're in to the knuckle right down Jim's throat. Jim doesn't gag, doesn't cough or splutter, even when Spock flexes his hand.

 

“It is truly a wonder how you fit anything in here.” Spock comments disapprovingly. Jim grunts in mild protest but stays firmly rooted to the spot, jaw open and mouth too wet. “We shall test that misguided mettle of yours.”

 

The hand withdraws, slick and dripping with Jim's saliva. Spock pumps his cock leisurely, wetting it before grabbing Jim's hair and pulling his head back, forcing his mouth to open impossibly wider. The thick head rests on Jim's bottom lip. Jim stares at it, nearly going cross eyed as the huge organ fills his vision.

 

“You will take me to the hilt.” Spock says. It's an order. Jim's cock _throbs_. “You will hold me in your throat until I am satisfied with your performance. Do you understand?”

 

It's too hard to nod with Spock's tight grip on his hair. “Yes sir.” Jim murmurs. It feels like he's getting drunk on the heady scent of Spock's musk. His cock smells good.

 

Finally Spock cants his hips forward, pushing the leaking head past Jim's lips right into his mouth. It tastes even better. It pushes steadily further, gently, slowly but surely filling Jim's throat. It starts to burn, way too thick, more than a cock has any right to be. It feels _good_. Jim swallows, sucking it in deeper. He wants more. After an eternity of steady sliding and pushing, Jim's nose hits the thatch of course curls nestled at the base of Spock’s cock. He expects Spock to start fucking his throat, but he doesn't. Maybe Spock is feeling benevolent, leaving Jim time to adjust. Jim waits patiently.

 

Nothing happens.

 

Then Jim feels a strange weight being dropped onto his lower back. His eyes flicker up to Spock. Spock ignores him and adjusts his glasses, then looks down over Jim's head. It's a padd, Jim realizes. He's using Jim's ass to prop up a _padd_. The bastard went right back to work! Jim snorts indignantly and tries to move, which earns him a second padd cracked against the back of his skull. The pained yelp never makes it to Jim's lips.

 

“You will stay there with my cock down your throat until I say otherwise. Remember that you are only here now because I allow it. Learn you place, _cadet_.” Spock hisses, low and dangerous. Then he goes right back to reading. Jim can't remember ever being so turned on in his life.

 

Jim decides he'd better focus on his breathing. Passing out half way into a blow job would be incredibly unsexy. Then again, Spock would probably enjoy the brief moment of peace.

 

Saliva is starting to well up in Jim's mouth. There's nowhere for it to go besides down his chin. Apparently Spock likes that because every time Jim tries to swallow it Spock tugs his hair just a little too hard. After several minutes pass Jim’s drooling heartily down the front of Spock’s pants. Spock doesn’t seem to mind. He just keeps on grading those damn papers. Every once in awhile he’ll press his hips firmly into Jim’s face, forcing his cock impossibly deeper into his throat. Jim can barely breathe. Maybe he will pass out. A few more padds are passed off to the other side of the desk. How long has it been?

 

Then, finally, “That is sufficient.” Spock says it indifferently, like he hasn’t been using Jim’s throat as his personal heater. It should be humiliating. But Jim’s own objectification is turning him on far more than it should. His own cock is straining for attention beneath the desk, leaking right onto the hardwood floor below. He doesn’t dare try to touch himself. Spock pulls back, easing himself gently out and over Jim’s teeth. A thick string of saliva keeps them connected. When his cock springs free, Spock gives Jim’s head a pat to show he’s done a good job. Jim preens, tests his jaw, shifts uncomfortably atop the furniture.

 

“Will you be assessing my ass now?” Jim asks hopefully, a little too eagerly, voice cracked and dry. “I’ve been _studying_ , Commander. I’m sure I’ll pass. You’ll be so proud of me.”

 

If Jim didn’t know any better he’d say Spock was smiling. A twisted, condescending thing. Like he’s wanting Jim to fail. Like if he does, it means Spock gets to break in Jim’s ass all over again. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

 

Spock doesn’t respond. He shoves aside the padd on Jim’s ass and moves around the desk. Jim’s sure he looks absolutely irresistible. He arches his back subtly and looks over his shoulder to smirk wickedly at Spock, knowing his face is a complete fucking _wreck_. If Spock wants Jim to be an insatiable little slut for him, Jim is more than happy to oblige.

 

Two large hands, deceptively delicate, grab onto the globes of Jim’s ass and pry them apart. The prize at his center is twitching eagerly under the scrutiny. Spock digs his thumbs into the tiny opening and pries it apart so he can get a good look inside.

 

“How’s it look, Sir?” Jim asks innocently, visibly fighting the urge to start humping the desk right then and there.

 

“It is adequate. Perhaps too tight for its own good.”

 

Feeling defensive, Jim starts, “ _Adequate_? Excuse me, Spock, but I like to think my ass is more than—” Whatever he was about to say next is cut off by a brutal smack to his ass. Jim can feel the handprint forming.

 

“You would do well to restrain that filthy mouth of yours, Cadet.” Spock leans over Jim’s back and grabs his jaw in an unforgiving grip. “If you feel it necessary to complain about my methods, then perhaps you would rather I send you out into the hallway, leaving whoever happens to pass by to  clean up the mess I’ve made of you.”

 

Jim shakes his head as much as he’s able in Spock’s firm hold. “No, Sir. I apologize, Sir. Please continue.”

 

Placated, Spock straightens up again and returns to his task. Jim can feel the head of Spock’s dripping cock press against his entrance. Shit. Spock is going to shove that monster right in without preparation. White hot panic courses through Jim and he whips his head around again.

 

“You’re not gonna—”

 

“If you are, as you say, _up to the challenge_ , then I see no reason to bother with such trivialities. I am sure you will open for me, one way or the other.”

 

With that, Spock begins to force his way in. And he’s right, Jim does open for him. His well trained ass sucks Spock right in, eagerly swallowing it and twitching for more. Jim grits his teeth, knuckles white at the edge of the desk. _Fuck_ , it burns so _good_. It doesn’t take long for Spock to bottom out. The Vulcan sighs contentedly, enveloped in a heat that rivals his home world.

 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re too big.” Jim whines, twitching violently.

 

“There is a certain… method to my madness.” Spock murmurs hotly, far too calm in the face of such intense pleasure. He must be feeling kind today. Spock allows Jim time to adjust, kneading and squeezing the delicious globes of Jim’s ass while he waits. “I have trained you quite well, obviously. You took me quite easily, did you not?” Jim nods blankly, utterly lost. “I am confident that you will be satisfied when you leave here tonight. A difficult feat, I know. And when you hunger for more you will try to satisfy yourself. Other students and professors often throw themselves at you, I am sure. But you will not be satisfied. The next time you sleep around, attempt to feed your insatiable appetite, it is my cock you will yearn for.” To prove his point, Spock grinds into Jim with such force that Jim skids across the desk.

 

Jim finds purchase enough to press back into the cock thoroughly splitting him open. “Yes, _yes_ , nobody fills me up like you can. I love your big dick so much, I’d follow you anywhere. _Anywhere_. You take me into space with you, I’d jump at the chance to be your personal slave. Don’t want anything else, just your cock pounding into me, messing me up.”

 

Spock growls deep in his chest and jerks himself free of Jim’s tight heat only to brutally drive it home again. Jim shrieks, melts, reduced to a mere puddle. Spock is a god.

 

“Harder, harder,” Jim begs and he gets what he wants. Spock can’t deny him. Jim’s the only person who can keep up with him and they both know it, even if it’s left unspoken. Spock grabs one of Jim’s legs under the knee and hauls it up to the desk, holding it in place to force Jim open even wider. He ruts into that ripe ass like an animal, and he knows Jim can take it.

 

The dam is broken. All of Jim’s want spills out like a river of incoherent half-formed desire. “Oh god you’re so good, Spock, so good. Yes, yes, fuck me _hard_ , ah, just like that! Right there, don’t stop!”

 

Spock drinks it in, pounds into that pliant body with an eagerness that borders on uncontrolled. Jim feels like he’s being eaten alive and it’s perfect. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh fills the room, drowned out only by Jim’s filthy moans and cries for more. Spock is pressing finger shaped bruises into Jim’s hips.

 

“You will keep talking.” Spock barks, too fond of Jim’s voice in the throes of their brutal sex.

 

Jim groans, trying to push back to meet Spock thrust for thrust. He’s doing remarkably well. Always does. “Can’t take it, it feels too good, I’m gonna cum. Fuck you’re so big and hard, can’t get enough.” A particularly powerful thrust jostles Jim so hard he loses his footing and is shoved forward, sandwiched between the unforgiving wood and Spock’s firm chest. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to regain his stance so he just lays there and takes it like a bitch in heat. “Give it to me, harder, yes, I’m gonna cum, Spock—!”

 

When the orgasm hits him Jim tenses so deliciously, ass spasming around Spock’s cock in a futile attempt to constrict and pull him in even deeper. It is so powerful it pulls a guttural moan even from Spock, music to Jim’s ears. Jim paints the underside of the desk and the floor below with thick ropes of white seed. Utterly spent and sweating bullets, Jim collapses into the desk and waits for Spock to fill him up. Soon enough the first spurt of liquid pleasure wets Jim’s insides and fills him to the brim. Spock twitches as he rides out his orgasm, gripping Jim’s hips with such force that Jim grunts in pain. He wouldn’t dream of asking Spock to ease up. He wears those marks with pride.

 

Once Spock has finished, he removes himself from Jim’s abused body and sinks back into his chair. As Spock pulls free, Jim clenches his ass just to keep his prize inside. Jim’s breathing hard, trying desperately to catch his breath after the brutal fuck. The rustling of clothes barely filters into Jim’s ears. He’s blissed out, floating on cloud nine, so high he barely registers Spock trying to help him back into his uniform.      

After several minutes, Jim feels Spock gently pat his hip. Jim straightens, muscles protesting the movement after spending the better part of the night bent over.

 

“What do you say, Commander?” Jim asks, breaking the silence. “Did I do a good job?”

 

Spock inclines his head, sharp gaze cutting right through Jim’s defenses. For a long moment he simply stares, taking stock of Jim’s sweat slicked forehead, the angry red marks from where Spock had scratched him, dirty face with dilated pupils. Beautifully dishevelled. Spock reaches for his personal communicator and fiddles with it.

 

Jim startles when the one in his back pocket vibrates, indicating an incoming transmission.

 

“The code to my quarters.” Spock clarifies at Jim’s stunned silence. “I expect to find you stripped down in my bed when I return at 1800.”

 

A huge grin practically splits Jim’s face. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to Spock’s lips, relishing in the surprise that flits across his handsome face before taking his leave without another word.

                


	8. Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim stumbles upon a hidden gem and takes full advantage of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to update. I will try to be more efficient at banging out chapters. But we all know life frequently gets in the way of things! This chapter was a viewer request and I hope you enjoy it.

Personal Logs of Dr. Leonard McCoy

Stardate: 2247.55

 

Let me preface this log by sharing some vital information on a certain breed of alien. There is an incredibly common misconception about Vulcans. People seem to think that because Pon Farr is viewed with such disdain and volatility that Vulcans are celibate in the interim.

 

Well let me tell you something. That's all a heaping pile of bullshit.

 

Vulcans _love_ sex. Straight sex, gay sex, tantric sex, crazy swinging from the chandelier stand on your head sex.

 

What they really love, Vulcan-human hybrids specifically, is hot, dirty, kinky sex.

 

Let me make myself perfectly clear. Vulcans are crazy about sex. You know what they hate? Being stripped of all logic and the ability to make an educated decision while being driven completely mad by a wave of raging hormones dictating their every waking action. As a survivor I can say that pon farr is no picnic.

 

_Leonard, I am going to take a shower. Would you care to join me?_

 

I've got reports to finish. I'll be there in a bit, Spock.

 

Anyway, I digress.

 

I'll be the first to admit that I've been found in some pretty compromising positions. I've heard talk that the crew thinks I initiate these encounters, and that's downright false advertising. Spock is a damn good liar and why should he go out of his way to correct their assumptions?

 

Today he straight up groped me under the table in the mess. Right there in the middle of a crowded and exceedingly public table, I might add! There I was eating my salad and then I feel a hand crawling up my pant leg. And when I shook him off, he had the gall to look put off!

 

_You are talking about me again._

 

Jesus! Don't sneak up on me like that! And so what if I am? These are my personal logs. I can talk about whatever I want. And I'm still mad at you for that, by the way.

 

_You have made that very apparent. Allow me to earn your forgiveness. Would you like me to demonstrate just how much I enjoy being intimate with you?_

 

What. Wait, right now?

 

_Surely this would be conducive to your current log entry._

 

Spock, I don't think– Hey, where are your hands going?!

 

_To remove your uniform, obviously._

 

Hey, hey, not so rough!

 

_You have never complained about my roughness before._

 

Well there's a first time for everything! Cut that out, don't put your tongue in there–

 

_Why must you pretend not to enjoy it? You turn such an endearing shade of red when I do. Ah, I suppose I should be more specific. This feed is audio only, is it not?_

 

You know damn well it is, you horny basta–ah!

 

_You have become quite hard. I have barely touched you._

 

You keep licking me like that and I’ll do more than just get it up.

 

_Perhaps one day I will subject you to that. But for now, I am content to remove your trousers and listen to the sounds you make as I touch you. Now if you'll kindly raise your hips, I will rid you of your briefs._

 

Damn it, Spock, you don't have to talk me through everything!

 

_On the contrary, Leonard. I am going to dictate my every action so that we may remember this moment exactly as it happened when we play this recording in the future._

 

That's… that's actually pretty hot.

 

_I thought it a rather compelling argument._

 

All right, then. Talk dirty to me.

________

 

The first time Jim tapped into McCoy's personal logs it was an accident, and he'd swear it on his father's grave. Too much work and not enough sleep had his brain functioning on autopilot. What he was actually supposed to be doing, he doesn't remember. What he does remember, memorized, even, was the sound of McCoy's wanton moans as Spock pounded him into the next galaxy over the console in the CMO’s quarters. Jim dirtied his uniform slacks listening to the deliciously filthy sounds filtering through the speaker. His dick never even made it out of his underwear.

 

The second time Jim had intercepted the private feed with his captain’s code, seeking a more personal medical briefing on the day's mission, of course, he was pleasantly surprised to learn that McCoy was particularly skilled at giving head. Spock’s small grunts and sighs of appreciation served as further evidence to Jim's newfound knowledge of this fact.

 

Listening in on his fellow officers getting nasty became an integral part of Jim's nightly routine. It didn't happen every night, but when it did, Jim could close his eyes and feel like he was part of it.

 

But _this_ encounter is by far the best. As he listens to McCoy's greedy hole being fingered open with excruciating detail, Jim finds he can't get his pants off fast enough. Usually he can hold out longer, but this is too good. Jim silently thanks the powers that be for Vulcan language skills as Spock goes into a long-winded commentary on just how _tight_ McCoy is. Spock wonders aloud about how many fingers he can fit in such a small opening and Jim almost comes right then and there.

 

The answer, Jim learns, is all five. With his eyes squeezed shut and Spock's baritone voice in his ears, Jim paints a vivid mental picture of the scene: McCoy is bent over his desk, one knee pulled up to the furniture and the other holding the rest of his weight. He's hard and dripping onto the carpet, thoroughly debauched. Spock is knelt on the floor, closely examining the orifice as he ruthlessly pries it open.

 

“I find you quite pleasing this way.” Spock says far too casually. “It appears I have run out of fingers to pleasure you with. My apologies.”

 

“Got a palm free.” McCoy manages to grunt.

 

“Are you suggesting that I penetrate you to the wrist? You are sweating and convulsing quite violently. Are you certain you can handle it?”

 

Jim gets the distinct impression that Spock knows he can.

 

“ _Yes._ Fuck, I want you to fuck me with your fist already.” McCoy answers breathlessly,voice tinged with a desperate sort of irritation.

 

“Very well.” Spock returns. That was almost too easy. Jim can hear McCoy's breath catch in his throat, and a strangled moan work its way through clenched teeth. “I am inserting my palm. The heel of my hand is coming next.”

 

Spock’s voice wavers. It must be difficult to control himself with the unbearable pressure and wet heat surrounding one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

 

“Well done, Leonard. You have accepted my hand to the wrist beautifully. Tell me, what do you think of the sensation? I must confess I am having a most difficult time maintaining my composure.”

 

Jim has forgotten all about his raging erection.

 

“G-good.” McCoy chokes.

 

“You will need to be more specific than that, Leonard. If you cannot complete your log entry with the necessary efficiency, then I will be forced to remove my hand.”

 

Jim muffles the moan threatening to escape him while McCoy lets out an agonized groan. Spock performs exquisitely well in a role of power. Not a particularly surprising development, but definitely arousing.

 

“I can feel every knuckle,” McCoy grunts, “every time you move. I can feel every little flex. It feels so good. I'm so full inside, so full. Feels like my ass is stretched all the way out. Don't want you to pull it out. Fuck me with your fist.” McCoy says it more firmly this time, demanding his pleasure. There’s a sharp intake of breath. It must be Spock’s.

 

Since the beginning Jim's been trying to hold out, trying not to touch himself, but he can't fight it any longer. With a satisfying squeeze to his balls, Jim leans closer to the speakers. He doesn't want to miss a sound.

 

“Perhaps I will.”

 

McCoy suddenly lets out a high pitched wail followed by a string of profanity. “Should I have warned you that I was going to curl my fingers into a fist? My apologies, Leonard.”

 

From the sound of the labored panting, McCoy doesn't have it in him to formulate some semblance of a reply. Lord knows Jim wouldn't either.

 

“You are doing a wonderful job of stimulating my hand. I believe I could reach orgasm just from this. If you were slightly tighter. I wonder, if I strike you, would you tighten for me?” Spock’s words come out in a sultry purr that Jim never knew he was capable of.

 

“Shit.” Jim mutters to himself. He hasn't touched himself, not really, but he knows he won't last through this.

 

Apparently Spock's serious about finding out because the sound of flesh on flesh rips through the feed and forces a guttural moan out of McCoy. The moment McCoy succumbs to his orgasm, Spock hums approvingly.

 

After releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding, Jim realized belated he's come all over his hand.

 

“Honestly, Leonard, we must work on your stamina. I was not able to ‘fuck you with my fist’ as you had wanted.”

 

“Oh bite me, Hobgoblin.” McCoy pants.

 

For a moment there is no reply. Then, “Is that a request?” Jim can hear the smirk. “I think I would very much enjoy a chance to sink my teeth into you. You wear my marks beautifully.”

 

"Easy. Unlike you, I actually  _have_ a refractory period." McCoy reminds. "Besides, I got work to do."

 

And the show is only half over. Now it's Spock's turn. It takes only a few moments and the sound of rustling fabric to signal to Jim that things are about to get _really_ heated. His cock twitches in interest, trying its best to inflate even after the sudden release.

 

“Gotta return the favor.” McCoy declares firmly. “How about a good cock sucking?”

 

Jim leans so close to the computer he nearly knocks his forehead right into the console. Spock makes _such_ pretty sounds. He's never actually _seen_ Spock's goods, but he can imagine well enough just what his first is packing.

 

“Perhaps this time you will succeed in taking my knot.” Spock muses amusedly.

 

This time Jim does collide with the equipment, but the pain in his head is completely overridden by this new development. In all of their years of friendship, how could he not have known about this biological anomaly? No wonder McCoy's ass stretched so easily for Spock’s fist.

 

An obscene wet sucking sound jerks Jim out of his thoughts.

 

“Don't get ahead of yourself.” McCoy slurs. It sounds like he's got the head of Spock's cock on his tongue. “I'd sooner get both of your balls in my mouth.”

 

Jim _groans_. It must be huge. More sucking sounds filter through the speakers which gives Jim more time to visualize it.

 

“It's a wonder how it fits in my ass at all. Say, you've done such a fine job of stretching me out, I'll bet it goes in nice and easy.” McCoy offers. “You think about that while I jerk your cock nice and slow.”

 

At this point Spock is sorely struggling to maintain some semblance of control. Jim knows from these nightly indulgences that Spock’s resolve begins to wear thin after McCoy has come. Sensing his own end, no doubt.

 

“While I do have an affinity for your hands, I would like to have your mouth instead.” Spock interjects good naturedly. He's so good. Much better a lover than Jim. Jim would be moaning like a whore and grabbing McCoy's head to make him. “For ease of penetration, of course.” Spock hastily adds.

 

McCoy hums as he mulls this over and ultimately concedes to the logic of it.

 

“All right. Then I'm going lick you until I've got your cock dripping wet. And when I'm good and satisfied with its slickness, I'll shuck the rest of my clothes and get myself nice and comfortable against the wall there. And you're going to hold me up and fuck me right into it. How's that sound?”

 

Jim sucks in a breath and grips the base of his rapidly swelling cock. _Don't touch_ , he reminds himself sternly. This time, he wants to come with Spock. And he's determined to restrain himself.

 

“I suggest you get started, as I am uncertain I will maintain control over my orgasm.” Spock sounds breathless already.

 

McCoy whistles approvingly. “Message received. I'll start with the head.” And he does just that. Jim can hear the soft pants and the slight suction McCoy's mouth makes. And then the commentary begins.

 

“You like that, huh? Love to see your fat cock in my mouth, don't you. Making me choke on it, forcing it down my throat so far that I can't breathe.” There's a pause. More licking, Jim thinks. Spock doesn't answer, but he doesn't really have to.

 

“It tastes so good. Here, let me play with your balls. You like when I squeeze them, right? Just like this, huh?” Here Spock grunts. Jim's ears strain to catch the sound. “That's it. You just relax and let me take care of you. How 'bout some more tongue? Gonna get you nice and wet, that's it.” Another pause, this time longer. Jim has long since squeezed his eyes shut. He's trying so hard to visualize every detail, like he's right there. In the darkness behind his lids he is there. Right beside them, drowning in the heady stench of sweat and sex.

 

“A few more licks. Keep holding still, Spock. God, you're soaked. Lube’s got nothing on Vulcan biology.”

 

Jim breaks and succumbs to a few quick jerks. He's so fucking hard.

 

“I think your cockhead wants some more love, doesn't it? I'm going to suck on it. Maybe I'll make you come–.”

 

There's another grunt. Jim can't rightly tell whose it is. 

 

"Come on, Spock, let go of my hair. I want it. Don't you? We both know you'll still be hard after you come. You'll still get a go at my ass." McCoy argues. Apparently Spock doesn't need much persuading. 

 

He must've let go, if the enthusiastic slurping is anything to go off of. The wet squelch of slicked skin tells Jim that McCoy must be jerking Spock's cock as he sucks on it. Jim tries to imagine what it tastes like. What it would feel like filling his mouth.

 

"Hey," McCoy says gleefully, "keep that knot under control or I won't get you down my throat." 

 

Spock grunts noncommittally. Jim's sure McCoy is pulling that thick cock right to the back of his throat when Spock's breath hitches beautifully. 

 

"That's it. You take such good care of me." Coos McCoy. "I'll tell you what. I'll let you decide where to blow your load. On my face or in my mouth?"

 

There's a brief pause. Leave it to Spock to weight his options at a time like this.

 

"I believe I should like to see the sight of you wearing my semen." He says finally. Jim shudders hard.

 

More wet, filthy sounds. "All right, then. I'm going to jerk your cock until you come. And I still want a taste so I'm going to open my mouth nice and wide for you."

 

Spock is uncharacteristically noisy when he orgasms. He releases breathy moans and soft sounds of approval. McCoy's name falls from his lips like a prayer. Jim doesn't want it to end. 

 

“Leonard." Spock says breathlessly. "Kindly situate yourself against the wall.”

 

Jim's relieved that they're moving along. He's sure he can't hang on much longer. His balls are starting to ache.

 

There is no more banter as they take the time to position themselves, likely desperate and eager to get wrapped up in each other. The next thing Jim hears is Spock’s wavering voice.

 

“I am going to enter you now. I will not stop until I am fully buried.” He informs.

 

“You better not.” McCoy quips anxiously.

 

Jim knows Spock has bottomed out when McCoy starts swearing and banging his head against the wall. Or maybe it's his hands? In the interest of keeping up the game, McCoy starts talking again and Jim is imminently grateful.

 

“Fuck, fuck, Spock. It's so big and hot. Feel like I'm melting. Hold me tighter, I want you to leave bruises, want to remember every second of this. Ah, yes! Harder, do it harder. Ah, ah, yes, that's perfect, yes.”

 

If Jim focuses hard enough he can almost feel the phantom sensation of Spock’s cock in his ass. Who knew McCoy could be so good with words?

 

Spock readily obliges with enthusiasm. McCoy moans harder. So does Jim.

 

“My knot is going to inflate momentarily.” Spock warns. Jim knows it has when McCoy positively howls with pleasure, thrashing against the wall and swearing with abandon.

 

“Spock, I can't. Too much, too full.” Except he's loving every second of it and Spock wouldn't stop even if he could. “It feels so good. Grind into me. Harder, like that, yes! Jesus, I can feel your knot moving inside me. Spock, please, put your mouth on me. Kiss me, bite me, mark me up.” McCoy is so wrecked and _desperate_.

 

Spock growls. A deep, rumbling thing that Jim can feel in the pit of his chest.

 

“I am going to eat you alive, _ashayam_.”

 

That does it. Jim can't hold it even a second longer. He strokes his cock furiously, shoving his fingers into his own mouth to muffle his moans. His orgasm rips through him with an intensity Jim hadn't ever experienced before. Hot come slicks his gold tunic and spilled over his hand. Slumping bonelessly into the chair, Jim struggles to catch his breath. When he finally comes back to himself, he barely registers the sounds of the two lovers breathing harshly.

 

For an indeterminate amount of time, those are the only sounds filtering through the speakers. Jim's harsh pants mingles with their breathy gasps. Yes, he's enjoying the post orgasmic bliss right alongside them, and it's wonderful.

 

“Hey.” McCoy says, breaking the relative silence. Spock doesn't respond, but he most look expectant.

 

“D’you think Jim’ll listen to this?”

 

Jim goes rigid, heart pounding so hard in his chest he thinks it might actually _burst_ . He's been found out. When did they figure it out? How? _Spock_ , he realizes. Spock must have pieced it together. One too many lingering touches on the bridge. Jim goes white, absolutely petrified with an acrid mixture of horror and gut wrenching anxiety.

 

Spock hums thoughtfully, considering his response. “I expect so. He does seem to enjoy our... performances.”

 

There's a distinct rustle of movement. Where are they going? To shut off the feed, perhaps. Surely they're done for the night?

 

“Jim.” The sound of his name rings loudly in his ears. McCoy has moved up close to the microphone. “Jim. If you're listening to this, and we think you are, then we're game for a third. Come play with us.”

 

The connection cuts off and the recording promptly ends. Jim stares unblinkingly at the console, mind blank. He knows what his next move must be.

  
Jim rises from his chair, changes his clothes, and exits his quarters with barely contained excitement.


End file.
